


Ruination

by Milight



Series: We're Just Aliens Together [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: BAMF Gaz (Invader Zim), Dib & Zim Friendship (Invader Zim), Dib Has Issues (Invader Zim), Dib tries to help his alien friend, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Professor Membrane Tries to Be a Better Parent, Sibling Bonding, Younger Dib, ZADF, Zim is Bad at Feelings (Invader Zim)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milight/pseuds/Milight
Summary: After the events of "Alienation", Dib deals with his trauma while helping change Zim's decision on Earth's destruction. A lot of obstacles along the way. There are some that return to haunt and some are of their aid, but if anyone could help his alien friend, Dib can.
Relationships: Dib & Gaz (Invader Zim), Dib & Professor Membrane, Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), GIR & Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz & Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: We're Just Aliens Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818295
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. Back On Track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib is bored in his hospital room, then talks about dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this so, to those who have read this chapter already, my apologies. And to those who re-read or new:
> 
> TW Recurring nightmares and Insomnia

It was the day he would be released from the bland and claustrophobic place called the hospital room. 

For another whole week, Dib can confirm that staying in the hospital is the most boring place he could ever be in. The same routine of only being babied by the medical staff (and occasionally his Dad), sleep for a long amount of time, and eating medicines that were prescribed for the body healing. The only times he tolerated inside this place was Gaz and Zim’s visits. Dad isn’t much there with them, but he delivers some fast food for them to eat rather than some stale and tasteless potatoes and loaves. Gaz spends her time with him playing games when Dib feels his brooding thoughts are getting tiresome. But most of her time was going to Skool, since she was fully healed. Oftentimes, she gives him the missed assignments if he becomes too much of a nuisance on her concentration on the game. 

Zim was a pleasant friend to be with when he wasn’t squawking so loudly. 

They've discussed how the terms of their truce going to work, for the benefit of both. Dib decided to help Zim in bringing his base back to his but in an exchange of not trying to rule Earth until Dib is ready to fight back. Zim accepted the conditions, although a little sour since he barely has any patience. The problem for Zim is that Dib will have to take another few more days of recovery, which means Zim will need just a speck of patience. 

Dib won’t have the privileges to get some freedom outside that much, except going to Skool. He can’t go without any guardians or companions to stroll the sidewalks. It already meant for Dib that Dad prevented him to go paranormal investigating and nightly hunting. It sucks, but at least there’s Zim and Gir. 

About Dad? Dib can sense the disappointment radiating from his aura. As much as there was some concern sprinkled in it, he couldn’t trample the silent truth that his son just ruined his father’s life long passion and reputation. Dib watched from the news about what had become of Membrane Labs. There were biased people towards the fault on his son or his secret assistant Mr. Winslow, effectively lowering Membrane’s fame and morality. The witnesses were the scientists who were along with the IGE project and the official members on the Membrane Labs. They’ve noticed Dib was disguised to be "Gaz’s friend" to sneak up on somewhere they don’t know, but the IGE scientists knew. 

However, they were closed off when they started talking about aliens and robots, completely throwing the reporters off from their reasoning. They were later sent to a rehabilitation center. Membrane lied under his employees’ backs by saying aliens aren’t real. The government got wary of Membrane’s actions, but he solved it by talking about something ignorant people would listen. To which, all did. 

The assistant about Mr. Winslow was disclosed afterward, only diverting themselves to think it was just the machinery inside the building that malfunctioned to explode the building. Which was partly true. Gaz told him about the machines that caused the fire at some point. 

It wasn’t unbearable for Dib to even know it was himself to blame. He knew most of the people in his town were basing their reasons on Dib’s fault if he is witnessed to be close to disasters. Though, that happens rarely, since Dib had shown only twice or thrice of his faults to cause destruction on the city because it was all related to his paranormal studies. 

Today, it’s in the late afternoon, and Dib has a few more hours before he could be free from this horrendous place. Then, he can go back to his room and work on helping Zim in getting his house back. 

He slid loads of papers to Gaz, full of written essays. He put the pencil and eraser down along with the papers, blowing a breath in relief. “Is Ms. Bitters gonna even take our homework seriously?” 

Gaz didn’t stop playing, but she replied, “Doubt it. I only care about you not bothering me.” 

“... I know.” Dib moved his eyes towards the other occupant in the room. 

Zim seemed to be doing fine. He’s still busying himself with fixing the minor damages on his Pak and drawing on some of the sheets. The Pak looked like it’s fixing itself, the mechanical whirring of its tools operating on the shell of the Pak. Zim said it was to mend the scratches and dents away to its former shell of a normal Pak. The insides of it, though, wasn’t even touched yet. The only thing it could repair it up was in his base. Besides the Pak, the bandages that he shared for his waist didn’t falter, it’s still tightly intact. The wounds on his face were healing, thanks to Gaz getting some band-aids despite Zim’s protests for pasting them on him. 

Gir is playing his own toys, and a lot of drawings and crayons scattered around him. Dib can see what the badly drawn pictures of Gir himself. One of them was pizza and tacos. Some of them were drawings of him, Zim, Gir, and Gaz. It looked like they were holding hands with those thin lines and have the typical drawn happy faces. It was sweet that Gir made those, but he wasn’t sure if Zim will change. 

Dib can teach the alien the ways of how humans take on life. He has a low probability, though. Zim is only focused on his own mission for his planet being eradicated. But when he told he risked his own life to save him from burning and crumbling building. When he apprehended him for those three months of ‘interrogations’ in IGE. Maybe there is hope he would get to change his mind.

He began staring at Zim, who was grouchily drawing himself. His drawing looked decent, that it actually amuses Dib of how he tries to improve his skills at sketching outlines.

_Maybe. Just maybe._

Triple gentle knocks echoed inside the room, startling the children (He doesn’t even know if Zim is technically a child or a really old hermit and the size of a gremlin, which is funny to think about). 

Dib sharply gestured Zim to shoo away, knowing already he would go under the bed even though he meant to flee to the window. Gir, however, follows his order, laughing maniacally when he threw himself out of the window. Dib was glad the window was wide open. He won’t have to make another excuse as to why there’s another broken glass again. He can’t hear the mechanical repairs on his Pak anymore, now filling the room with silence but Gaz’s video game sound effects. 

The door creaked, revealing a nurse with a tray of a glass of water and a couple of tablets. She gave them a formal smile, like a stranger just giving nice but ingenuine assurances. But to Dib, it looked genuine. He sometimes imagined that would be like his mother’s smile if she would still be alive. If she would have the same attitude as this woman, and her patient and warm welcome every time she enters a room. Thus this specific nurse made Dib ache. He really needs to forget about her every time he meets some female strangers. He’d done it for years, why can’t he do it now? 

The woman scanned the room, raising an eyebrow just as he spotted the scattered papers on the ground, where Gir was. Now that he notices it too, the floor looks like it was trashed with papers and toys. He was kind of glad of having the perks of a young child. He doesn’t need to justify on how there are toys laying down the floor since she may think he owns them (technically, he does own them, but Gir has that privilege to play because Dib wasn’t used to playing at all). Dib was about to make a lazy lie, but Gaz got to it first. 

“Dib had a tantrum and threw all his artworks-“ 

“Hey-” 

“- I mean, I would do it, if my drawings are that bad.” Gaz leaves it on with a shrug, going back on her game. 

The nurse just chuckled softly, placing down the tray on the bedside table. “Just as the prescription says, Dib. Okay?” the nurse said in a very motherly way. Dib ignores the thought of it and nods too innocently, quietly saying a thank you. Ever since the medical staff had been pampering him all week, he had told them to stop giving him this kind of treatment after he got better in moving his sore arms. They reluctantly let him be, and luckily his Dad didn’t oppose to the idea. 

The adult gave a warm smile before she walks out the door. 

And then, they hear a cat screeching and Gir laughing outside. The nurse turned around to look at the window, slightly perplexed. Dib tried to have a fixed smile, feeling the sweat on his face and awkwardness seeping through the room as the confusion lasted for more than seconds, partly hoping that she won’t go by the window. Gaz seemed unbothered by it, resuming on her console. 

Soon enough, she shook it off, telling her patient she’s going to be busy and he needs to swallow his pills before she gets back. The nurse closed the door on the way out, letting Dib a small sigh of relief. 

“That human nurse gives me the dookies!” Zim declares, crawling out from under the bed. 

“What is even a dookie?” Dib asks. 

Zim sits down the edge of the bed, eyeing at the door with skepticism and distrust. He can also see on his side the Pak working again. 

“A dookie is a revolting thing that should cease to exist.” 

“Okay, that’s not even true. The nurse is nice.” 

“Exactly!” 

“What are- Oh... right. Not into _that_ kind of stuff,” Dib realizes, remembering the alien doesn’t go well with the term ‘kindness’ to his narcissistic personality. Then again, he saved him from a building on fire. So, he’s a bit of a hypocrite, to which, it isn’t far from his traits. 

“GIR! Get in here!” 

Dib was about to shut him up by using his hand to his mouth, which would be leaning his upper body forward, but recalled himself he still has his chest sore and still in need to lay down.

He resorted to retorting instead, “You want yourself to get caught?!” 

“Nonsense! Most of the humans on this planet are dumb!” 

Dib shot him a look, making Zim groan, rolling his alien eyes, “Zim said most humans.” 

“Oh, so you do think of me as smart and skilled?” Dib turned to grin cheekily. 

“I did not say you weren’t part of the most humans,” Zim smirked, seeing in Dib’s perspective, a sideways smug look. The boy frowned, almost pouted when Gaz snickered from Zim’s statement. 

“If I’m not so smart, then maybe I’m _too stupid_ to help you.” Dib makes a quote gesture with his hands at the words ‘too stupid’, mockingly uninterested as he turned away from him. It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke, but he just realized Zim takes things way too seriously. 

“Not fair, stupid meat sack. You can’t back down the truce!” 

“But how am I of help with an awesome, astounding invader of the Irken empire if I am part of the ‘dumb’ humans? I can’t really help since I’m useless to the team,” Nonetheless, he continued the act and dramatically taunted, shrugging helplessly. He was trying to stop himself from snickering that Zim was twitching his eye in irritation. What makes it even funnier is that he was actually thinking Dib would do that. 

“How dare you back out from the truce! Zim had to waste a week of staying in this putrid place just for your slow healing progression and I hate it!” 

“Admit it that I’m smart and not dumb,” He challenges with a confident smile, waiting for a decent response. As childish as this is, he wants to make Zim feel humble for a small lesson that he’s not gonna assert superiority in front of him every day. At least, that’s what he thought he was doing. 

Maybe it’s just a childish antic to do and not because he wants to teach him a lesson. 

Zim grouched about him being stupid, then declaring what he wants to hear, “You’re a… QUALIFIED human being.” 

“I’m waiting for the ‘smart’ word.” 

Other iconic angry noises escaped from his mouth, defeated, “Fine, you are a qualified and _smart_ human being,” Zim scowled, supposedly mocking the ‘smart’ but Dib accepted it anyways. 

“Aww,” Dib playfully cooed, intently making a sinister face, which made the other glare more. “Isn’t that the nicest thing- “ 

“Shut up! Eat your tiny food, now!” Zim basically stomped around his bed to the bedside table, snatching the antibiotics from the tray and shoved them to Dib’s hands, who almost dropped it but managed. The alien was fuming in anger. Or embarrassment, Dib couldn’t tell since he always does that whenever he’s getting beaten in a conversation. 

The boy laughed at his reaction, reaching for the water. “Doesn’t feel too good to be laughed at, now does it?” 

“You keep your mouth shut, human. That was for the truce.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

He swallowed each pill and drank into portions. During that, someone -specifically Gir- surprised them from the window. “I survived from the fall!” The robot announced, then showing out a squirrel on his hand. “And I’ve got Mr. Squiiirrrel~ “ He singsonged. 

“GIR, get that hideous creature off here!” Zim scolds, going over to Gir and the squirrel. 

The next thing was a squabble between the two, fighting for the squirrel, which it seemed struggling to get out of Gir’s grip. 

Dib shakes his head at the stupdity, resting against the pillow. He lets his eyes stare at the ceiling, though a little dazed. 

There are so many things to unfold from his mind. The truce, being grounded, the newfound information about Winslow, and the growing cases of the unusual sleeplessness. 

After the doctor mentioned to his family about insomnia, he really thought this was a dream come true. He always wanted to stay awake from the nights, being the night owl. But, there are bad effects on it. Such as the inability of sleeping and fatigue by daylight. The doctor recommended he needs the sleeping pills in case if he wakes up at the night. For the time of the excitement on his wakefulness, he experienced it was never good. Not after the reoccurring nightmares that have been happening every time he sleeps. 

Gaz noticed sooner the shadow on his eyes and questioned about it. When he dismissed the topic, so did she. He had to give her some respect that she didn’t poke around to it that much. He doubts that Zim wouldn’t even care to spot it. He’s too busy focusing on his mission. Dad did take notice of it on the other day, and he was panicking to the doctor on what else he could do about it despite the bottle of sleeping pills. 

And for the first time, Dib could even feel the agony from the only escape he could rest upon, which is sleeping. Nightmares are a pain. 

Meanwhile, the truce and Zim’s revelation on Winslow’s identity had his gears turning. He hasn’t seen Winslow transformed an alien before. Well, to be fair, he hasn’t seen any other species besides Zim. The Irken didn’t know what the Vortian was doing on Earth, but he thought that Winslow-Vortian would try and steal his mission to rule Earth. While it does somehow make sense, it didn’t make sense for the fact the Vortian has been disguising himself for years back when IGE was created, even though Earth was already vulnerable and ready to be afflicted. He had this information when Dib asked Dad after Zim told him about Winslow. He seemed apprehensive about answering it until Dib insisted him to just say it. He only gave him the unsatisfying and vague answer that the facility was created years ago, but not after Dib was born. It was in the middle of the night that day, so Dib just brushed him off with a tired wave and an angry goodnight, leaving him to stare at his son while Dib shifted himself to sleep, before hearing him stepping out of the room. He'll have to situate that when he’s ready for investigating again. 

“So, how do we exactly get this plan done, Zim?” Dib stirred the Vortian topic away from his head, eyeing back at the Irken, who was still reprimanding the robot about the squirrel. This time, the squirrel was nowhere to be seen, and Gir seemed very upset. He glanced at Gaz, who is very much annoyed at the conversation between the alien and the bot. 

When he asked that question, Zim halted from his ranting about the wildlife of Earth and turned around to cock an eyebrow at Dib. 

“Eh?” 

“About how to get the robots out of your house. What’s the plan?” 

Zim, completely forgetting the rant and telling Gir off to play his papers and toys (which he did, also forgetting about the squirrel), and walked to Dib’s bed. He casually explained it, “Easy, either we sneak in and activate my computer to get rid of those ugly human bots. Or get rid of them ourselves.” 

“Why couldn’t YOU do tha-“ 

“Because! There are too many. If _this-_ _”_ He emphasizes. “-sneaking tactic fails, Zim has to have a... handful of people to assist me in beating them.” 

“Because…” Dib waits for the phrase, but Zim doesn’t seem to get it, so he continues, “You’re incapable of-“ 

“ZI- I AM NOT INCAPABLE!” He yelled, making Dib instinctively shush him by, well, a sharp hush. He was relieved that Zim knows his screeching would get him caught, especially screaming out in third person. 

The alien snarls, “Zim is just having problems with the PAK. If it weren’t for your human weakling body not moving to flee the building, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

Dib got defensive. “It was your choice to save me in the first place! Don’t blame me for what you’ve done.” But he doesn't mention the bad timing of his warning about the missile, which had been told that destroyed the Pak legs. He didn’t forget it, but he just didn’t want to admit it either. 

Zim tries to say something to counter his point, only finding nothing as he was opening and closing his mouth like a gaping fish. 

The boy felt the prick of guilt afterward. 

Because Zim did sacrifice himself from keeping him alive. 

* * *

His head was spinning. He felt the skull crack as it presses hard on the ground. He feels liquid gurgling from his mouth, flavorless but it was drowning him as he tries to spit it out. He’s struggling with his breathing. Something is blocking through his nose. It was suffocating him, pushing him to gasp harder, survival instincts going overdrive. 

And above all, he felt his chest burning and hurting. 

He can hear cracking and whimpering. He can feel the overwhelming pain, the blood rushing on his head that he can visualize the red liquid spurting out from his mouth. 

Then, he hears the laughing. The laughter of his _murderer._

He widened his eyes the moment he looks at Winslow, who is on top of him. His foot was forcing it down to his body, sending him the jolts of immeasurable pain. Dib cries in agony once again.

He chokes on his saliva mixed of blood, desperately wanting to _just breathe_. But the more he does so, it only made him suffer. 

“ _Please, stop..._ ” He tries to pull the foot off, but his arms and legs weren’t flailing. He was just stuck here, letting himself die. He can’t move. 

_I can’t move_

“ _Please_ …” 

He felt like crying again. It was going on forever, the daunting and hollow laughter. The choking on the blood. The endless cracking of the ribs. The pain gnawing at him- it hurts. 

_It hurts. Zim, it hurts, please-_

Dib shot his eyes open and instantly sat upright. 

He didn’t scream, nor cry, but shortly and sharply gasped, like he just rose up from drowning in the water. The first thing he does was to touch his chest, finally sensing it was fine. It was aching, but it wasn’t bleeding and hurting. He felt his heartbeat thumping loudly, beads of sweats dripping down from his forehead, and his constant yet tiring labored breathings. He heavily sighed in pure relief, slouching his body after he remembers he’s not there. It was in his bed and his pajamas. 

“It was just a dream,” He mumbled repeatedly, convincing himself even though his stress levels were going up. 

“Dream?” It made it even worse when a familiar voice called it out. Dib jolted from his bed, whirling his head to see another person inside his room. Rather, an Irken Invader. 

Dib stares at Zim’s bright magenta slits, who is just sitting on his plain, navy-colored carpet. He was holding something mechanical, scraps of metal from what he can recall, the garage. He can make out a blurry pinkish glow of his Pak, still looking like it’s being fixed. Beside him was a smaller figure, who he recognized as Gir sleeping. What he can’t make out, though, was the alien’s expression, but he didn’t make a move to get his glasses. His unwavering gaze was fixed unto the Irken, his brain going from blank to a myriad of assorted questions. 

However, he didn’t ask all of it. 

“What are you doing here?” Dib quietly asked, nearly whispering. He has no energy to shout, as always when he’s having these occurrences. His hand was still grasping the shirt where the chest is while he waits for Zim's response. Due to the dark and dull lighting of the room, having only the moon on his window to brighten it up wasn’t enough to really distinguish what Zim was doing. 

Hence, the awkward answer of his friend had to clarify his question, “Err- you permitted me to stay in your small feeble looking room. Be glad that your parental unit hasn’t entered yet.” He went back to tinkering on something, unusually silent for once. 

Dib gave himself a few more moments of staring at the alien, before he could rub his eyes and tilt his head to check the alarm clock. The green glowing numbers stated it was quarter past three, unfortunately. Dib falls back against the cushiony feeling of the pillow and the mattress, adjusting his blanket to cover his body, but he still wasn’t really feeling up to go to sleep. 

He can recollect everything now. About the hospital stay was finally over. Dib was sent back home afterwards, their only goal for him is making him rest on his bed for the preparation for Skool tomorrow, which is today in a few hours. The new thing is, Zim and Gir decided (mostly Zim, Gir agrees on anything.) on staying with him for the night, telling him this would be the place he could assemble the weaponry for today’s plan on bringing back his own base, and since he doesn’t have any place to stay at all. Dib made sure he got the rules and warnings implanted on Zim’s absentminded alien brain. Mainly, about his dad coming into his room. Zim followed to it, not before he stole some of the scrapped metals from the back of the garage, and then he worked his ammunitions in his room for the whole night. 

The boy heaved a sigh, letting his hand rest on his chest for a reason that someone might hurt him. He elicited a grunt of frustration that he still feels like he's not tired when in actuality, he's supposed to be. Zim may have heard it, but Dib didn’t mind. He’ll just grouch something about humans being so weird. 

But what he did not expect, was Zim stating something else. 

“Do humans usually make sounds in their sleeping process?” 

“Huh?” Dib turns his head only, eyeing at Zim’s vague figure on the ground, which is not too far from him, but not near enough to see him clearly. His mind maybe wasn’t processing so well, or he misheard it. Or just not believing him he would ask that. 

The Irken did not grumble like he used to when Dib wants to repeat what he says. To his surprise, he made himself repeat, “I said, do humans make those… whimpering sounds like that when they’re sleeping?” Although, it has the tone of annoyance. 

“Well,” Dib yawns, and Zim sent him a look. Maybe it was confusion he was sending, but he wasn’t certain. Irkens doesn’t know how yawning works since their species is not composed of depleting energy but a working Pak. “We do make sounds, like snoring. But no. Some people do when they have... special conditions.” he didn’t want to get to the topic too deeply. 

“Hmm, and these special conditions is like what?” 

He mentally slapped himself in the face for being so vague. He could’ve just reasoned it that it comes along with snoring and it’s natural. Though, there may be a possibility that Zim might search it up when he gets back to his base. 

Hesitantly, Dib answered it, “They can have recurring nightmares, which triggers their consciousness to sometimes make sounds on the outside of the dream.” It wasn’t really much about trauma, which is good, but it’s close enough to create a valid point. 

And even better, Zim asked on a much simpler subject, “What’s a dream? Isn’t that supposed to be aspiring for something? And what’s a nightmare?” Zim seemed to stop working, seeing that there was no movement from his vision of the room. 

“They’re... Yeah, dream is also like that in other terms. But it’s that they’re sequences of scenes that doesn’t really make sense in reality.” 

“How is that possible?” It’s not unalike to him that Zim barely sleeps and never dreams. He was told it was rare to fall out into unconsciousness, but ever since he just learned Zim doesn’t know dreams, he mused about how do Irkens take up most of their time while sleeping. Now that’s a question for later. 

“It’s just- just made by the brain to imagine something bizarre and weird stuff,” Dib explains lazily. 

“And the nightmares?” 

“They’re like dreams, but scarier.” 

“What does that make any difference to dreams? You said that weird stuff can happen in it, should a scarier dream be any different?” The alien reasoned, which kinda irritates Dib’s mood swings. Maybe it’s because Zim asks too much in this late hour. 

_Is this how I interrogated him back then_ _? Man, I'm annoying,_ Dib thought. 

“I don’t know, Zim. I’m not the one who makes these words,” He said almost angrily, but tiredly at the same time. 

Zim looked troubled in his musings, concluding one thing. 

“Human are strange, yet stupid creatures.” 

“Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know,” Dib faintly smiled despite his scornful remark, just to dissipate his anger from seconds ago.

“Okay, did I mention that your base sucks?” 

“Maybe. You always say everything sucks on Earth.” 

“Maybe because it is!” 

“Sure,” Dib teasingly giggled, making Zim grumble in return. 

He was delighted that he avoided the _personal question_ quite easily. He thought he would have to craft a string of insults to divert Zim’s subject on his sleeping problems. He’s not ready to tell him about it, yet. He may be his friend, but Zim isn’t the one who would really help in his situation. An emotional situation in particular.

Generally, everyone around him wouldn’t understand. 

“Ugh, I should’ve eaten the pills,” Dib muttered suddenly, the mild pain inside his head is starting to form. He had forgotten the bottle of pills that Dad had given to him, for the third time. He must be really focused on getting himself a good night's sleep on his comfy bed that he didn’t bother to get his prescriptions. Now look what he's gotten himself into. Suffering from sleeplessness, which Dib dreamed of doing because of his past constant nightly hunting and researching, but not in the way he expected it to be.

The other reason besides insomnia was that he’s too scared to delve into those nightmares again. Sure, he had been having these in a span of a couple of weeks, though that doesn’t mean he has the brain to know these recurring nightmares are not to be dealt with in everyday life. It was said that a lot of people had these problems, even children. And now, with this _one of a kind_ experience, he’s certain this would last for a long period of time. 

Doctors informed insomnia will fade in a month, but Dib doubts it wouldn't. 

With nothing to do, he just lays there awake, and it makes his ceiling much more interesting to look at. He can hear the cricketing, the faint rustling of the leaves, Gir's small snores, and Zim's machinery clanking and its soft thuds of the metal on the carpet. These were exhausting to hear, but Dib isn’t exhausted enough to sleep. 

That is, before Zim broke the long, now aware, silence between them, “If you’re not gonna do your human sleeping, you might as well help me with this stupid technology of yours.” 

Dib perked up at the request, desiring of teasing him about it, “What’s the problem?” 

“The problem is that you slack off and we’re about to set foot into my base to maim those tall mindless scientists-robots that’s been living for months!” Zim’s voice got higher the longer he spoke, but luckily it wasn’t that too much noise to alarm the whole household. 

“Oh,” was all he could respond. He wants to keep himself awake, and busy. But if he does help Zim, he won’t have the needed hours of rest for Skool. 

_Meh. I can’t really sleep. Might as well be useful._

“Yeah, okay,” Dib shrugged the thoughts off, eagerly pulling the blanket away and dropping down the ground. This may come to bite him back by morning dawns. In spite of it, he was elated on making weaponry alongside an alien who is an expert at it. 

For the rest of the night, they’ve been inventing and bickering. 

Dib laughing and Zim pouting. Then, Zim cackling and Dib blowing raspberries. 

This carried on for hours, and he was, for once after all of those restless nights, happy he’s staying up all night. 


	2. Inflitrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Membrane siblings and the Invader infiltrates his own base.

As Dib finally reached the table where Gaz is, he put his tray of food aside, sat down, and smacked his head down the wooden table with a tired moan. 

“Should’ve had the chance to sleep for more, huh?” Gaz goaded, probably still playing by hearing the familiarized music of her video game.

“Oh shut up, I can’t resist being awake,” He snapped, grumpily raising his head, in spite that it forms a massive build-up to hurt his brain. He blinked tightly to give time for his burning eyes to cool down and slid his tray back in front of him. 

“You should’ve swallowed the pills.” He should’ve, indeed. 

Ever since Dib and Zim have been talking on something unrelated that late night, such as the Earth and Irken cultures comparison that results in a never-ending quarrel, he was wide awake for most of the time. Developing their tech was also a pain for his head, but the boy had been nothing but livelier and bubbly than those last several nights before. The whole time he was anticipating for the day he would be exploring the alien’s base when Zim told him about the alien technologies he had never heard before. He would be the first human to ever know alien languages, alien species, and state-of-the-art more alien types of machinery. It excites him.

Nevertheless, he didn’t think about the repercussions. 

“I forgot, okay?” He may have done his tone a little angrier than he was expecting, realizing slowly he had said it straight to his sister and instinctively prepares to shrink his frame away from the likelihood of getting hit. But, she didn’t, not as long as her eyes was still transfixed on her game and sipping up her soda from her other hand. After placing the drink down, she countered back his reasoning, “Forgetting for the third time doesn’t make it any better. Learn to prioritize.” Gaz can be quite quick-witted for her age, and it irritates Dib that she can think that fast. The good thing that came out of this was that she didn’t lash on him. 

Dib just huffed in indignation and ate up a morsel of the Skool-made sandwich, which looked beyond expiration, by the way, yet it was edible and tolerable for Skool students like him. He chewed it with a face of repulsion, feeling too appetized already. Swallowing it with a struggle, he set the food down shortly. He noticed Gaz twitched her head from his direction but didn’t see her face quick enough before she went back on playing. 

“Are you going to join me and Zim on infiltrating his house?” Dib asked, distracting him and Gaz from the sandwich laying menacingly over the plate. Dib pictured the sandwich whispering to him that he should dip the entirety of itself up. Looking at the molds from the edges of the bread, he never felt more nauseous than last time. And he wasn’t even consuming it. 

This series of non-eating habits are beginning to be more of an annoyance for his father and sister than being a concern, and even he had enough of this, too. But he had no choice really, he just has this stomach rejecting the new food and Dib had to barf every time he was done ingesting it after giving him few hours of rest. Zim very much noticed this at the hospital, when at one time Dib had to do it in the middle of the night. The alien didn’t like it and left the room quite fast, and the poor nurses had to take care of his vomit. It was eating him alive, because the less and less food in his body were also weakening his strength. 

The girl didn’t make a response to the sandwich and his distaste for it. He hears the ‘GAME OVER’ sound effect play, and she first shot a mad look, which made Dib freeze in a haste regret from asking, then she nodded her head. “But you still have a dad to take care of.” 

“What? We could just walk to the sidewalk.” 

“Didn’t you listen earlier at breakfast?” Gaz turned her eyes to him, unmistakably infuriated. Dib looked down to the tray, trying to remember what even happened in breakfast. Minutes passed, Dib found nothing, and Gaz deeply sighed in exasperation. “Dad said he’ll pick us up after Skool.” 

“What?! Then what do we do? We can't just abandon the mission now!” Dib exclaimed, thoughts cramming his clear mind that is causing internal panic. If Dad is coming to drive for the day, it meant he wouldn't be able to take this plan in motion since he's seemingly more attentive than the past years because of his critical injury. 

“What do you mean ABANDON?!” Another voice emitted aloud from Dib’s side. And he knew who it was. 

He swivels to search the source of the voice, revealing _Zim_ with a literal steaming raven hair, burnt-looking (Seriously, it has ashes.) human crystal purple eyes, and has his tattered pink uniform as his human clothes. 

Dib had his mouth agape and scrunched his brows, shockingly and furiously confused as Zim just casually walks over to them with the tray of food and milk, settling down beside him. Zim began talking again, “It sounded like you will not assist me in fighting those stupid robots.” 

“Because it is,” Gaz nonchalantly replied back. 

Dib was still in shock until Zim noticed him, “Close your filthy mouth, Dib-stink. Or else the tiny flies will go inside to your small-minded brain.” The thought of it was idiotic, nevertheless, Dib closed it, in the fear if it does happen. 

Even so, he immediately sputtered out his words before Zim could say anything, the headache being thrown aside, “W-What are you doing here?!” 

“Easy, Worm-boy. I’ve still got my name here. It means Zim is still allowed in this Skool,” He plainly explained. However, Dib wasn’t satisfied. 

“Don’t you think your disguise isn’t enough for it to be a disguise?!” He loudly whispered, glancing around them if one of the children ever bat an eye. 

Zim snorted boastfully, “Puny human, did you think your Skoolmates would be thinking Zim is an alien? I would’ve been long captured if they did.” 

It was true, fortunately. Zim had been observing the planet for a few months before his captivity. He should’ve realized it sooner his ignorant classmates don’t see the same thing as he does. They might even thought that Zim just had some kind of green skin condition, which that may be the case. 

Dib made an unsure hum of satisfaction and relaxed for a bit, still cautious about his alien friend entering into the Skool with full of humans, particularly the cafeteria, where all of the Skoolmates are here. 

“So what is this situation you’ll have to fix?” Zim gets to the point, looking back at Gaz, who was still on her game and not troubled at all that Zim is here with a smoking wig.

Rather, she commented on it, “Nice disguise. Did it come from the grill?” 

“Funny, Gaz-human, Zim is verily amused,” Zim sneered. 

“And I thought you’d agree.” 

“Hah, Zim won’t be fooled this time, for Dib had already done his moments of ‘sarcasm’ against me.” 

“So it came from the incinerator, then?” 

“It came from the PAK, which is still scorching. So shut it, human. You don’t know anything. What _we_ need is to focus on the problem which you two smeets have. Tell me! Tell me NOW!” Zim slammed his gloved hand to the tray, shaking the contents and tipping over his milk towards his direction. 

Dib nearly felt like dying when he shouted the last part, receiving the attention of a few that were close to them. Thankfully, they gradually disregarded them after for a couple of seconds, going back to their usual routine. He was getting ready to scold Zim’s deafening behavior, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of the spilled milk to the green skin. 

He watches Zim’s reaction, who just hisses in anger. Relieved that most of the liquid did not reach to the alien, Dib went back to his panicked thoughts. But, he pondered quickly about the students were most likely ignorant, hence letting scolding Zim off the topic. 

Instead, he acknowledged his question with forced hush of the panic, “We can’t go with the plan today because Dad’ll pick us up before I even try stepping out of Skool.” 

Zim snarled at the idea of it, “Then tell your Dad to not pick you up.” 

“Not gonna happen, Zim. Remember, I’m still in recovery and Dad is overprotective again. If there’s any chance that he would be just a television screen, then maybe,” Dib reminisced vividly that his father grounded him and Gaz. They were locked up in the house for a week after Dib’s incident on falling off a short building by the roof, and crashing on a tree with a lot of minor injuries. It was reasonable, but he wished that he wouldn’t be so controlling. And now, he just had life-threatening experience, for he was fairly certain Dad would ground him for weeks. If he's lucky, maybe even a few days.

Zim groans in aggravation, “Why can’t you just kill this tall human?” 

“Wha-No!” Dib gawked, slightly piqued, and fully in disbelief. He can spot Gaz twitching from their shouting, or was it Zim’s statement that had her riled up too?

“Why not?! You seem very upset when he shows up. Why let him live if you don’t want him?” Zim barked. 

Dib wants to counter the question, but it only left him doubtful. He confirmed himself before that he hated his father. He hated that he didn’t believe his dreams and thought of it as a phase. He hated even more when he discovered he had been hiding a creature that Dib longed of seeing for his paranormal, that he lied about aliens not being real for his whole childhood. He had been lying to him because he thinks his own prodigal son is an incapable little boy, an eight-year-old deranged son, unlike his father's past childhood of proud scientific inventions that any child could not do. His own son had inherited that trait, but he was still being called a crazed child and a loser. It angered Dib to no end. 

Yet… he is Dib’s only parental person in his life is his father. He’s the only one that he adored and wants to make proud of. 

But that was done and ruined. 

So, why didn’t he want to just kill him and let it be done with? Just get adopted by another parent that cares more for him and Gaz? 

“Because…” Dib pauses, his voice fading, seeking to find an answer. “Because he’s our Dad.” 

“Eh? So what?” 

“He’s just- just our Dad. You _cannot_ kill him. And we’re sure _we_ won’t either,” His stern voice faltered a little when he spoke since he feels really unsure about his decision on choosing to be with his father. Maybe it’s because there would be nobody adopting him if he chose not to. Maybe it was the fear of abandonment again, that nobody would accept him as their son due to his infamous demented personality. 

Maybe it was the painful truth that his father was the only person, aside from Gaz, to ever have him as a son. That regardless of sending his son to the Crazy House for Boys, he would actually try and give the presence of him being a human and a family member, not just a crazed child that needed to go to a mental hospital every day. His father only does that when he goes too far. 

Dib knew Zim wouldn’t understand, thus he will want to make a remark. 

But Dib cut him off, “ _No_. We will not- and won’t ever do that. That’s final.” He despised that he sounded strict and firm like Dad, but he is set on convincing the alien not to speak of it anymore. 

Soon enough, he got the message, rolling his eyes in denial of defeat. 

“You better have a plan to get that grimy father unit off our mission.” 

“I’ll think of it as I go along,” He assured, forcing himself to scarf down the food just to distract himself from the thoughts of his father and his fear. His headache isn't going anywhere, though. He ignored it anyways until it becomes a trouble.

Zim grunted in discontent, but he didn’t go away from the table. He informed Dib that he and Gir will be waiting by the front of the cul-de-sac to his house after their time in here. He sat there with the siblings for the entire lunch break, ranting about his procedure for the task on how to do it, that Gaz had to snap at him to keep shut and tell that they've already known what to do. 

The three of them went into their separate classes as the bell rang.

Hours of boredom and itching liberty from this oppressed establishment, an alarm came again and it was time for dismissal. 

Students were instantly flooding the hallways to the front door of the Skool, loud gibberish of student crushes and their eagerness of freedom from it. Dib and Gaz stepped out of the corridors of the crowded children without care, especially Dib since no one ever tried to bother him to be pushed into the lockers because his sister is beside him. 

The siblings caught sight of Dad’s car parked on the edge of the sidewalk. 

The driver’s window opened and saw their father, revealing the usual floating television screen that shows Dad waving. 

Dib had a quick smirk that he finally popped up a mischievous idea. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking, Gaz?” 

Gaz grumbled in return, “It’s a stupid one, but sure.” 

“You’re up for it?” 

“Are you?” Gaz raised her eyebrow at him, showing her typical airy face. 

The older sibling nodded in confidence, and they simultaneously walked to their father’s car. 

* * *

Dib unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his bag. He hopped off the car, closing the door after. He glanced at Gaz at the other side doing the same, her bag and game readied on her hands. 

“Take care, children! Be at dinner!” Membrane shouted cheerfully, sliding the window up and driving off somewhere. 

The children watched as their parent swerved properly to a U-turn, driving to where the roadway would be, leaving them at some house, more specifically Gaz’s friend's house. 

He looked behind him and discerned it was just a two-storey house that has no paint but some darker tone of stone and dusted windows and door. Its overall seemed like it’s an abandoned building. He tugged his backpack tightly to his back, asking, “This is your friend’s house?” 

“Was. Her family moved out after she tried stealing my stuff,” She said emotionlessly. If they’re new in this town, they should rethink about even moving in here when most of the citizens are pretty dumb and weird in many ways. Well, he could say all people, since they were already peculiar children and has an obsessed father on Science. 

Gaz treaded to the right direction of a walkaway, Dib trailing behind. “Zim’s house is just close by, so come on,” She ushered along. 

They went past by several ordinary houses, neighbors just doing their time outside and some can be seen being couch potatoes in the living rooms. Nothing was really new here. They were doing tedious and typical things that Dib would’ve died from the intense boredom of the repetitive tasks every day. There is a reason why he was still onto paranormal due to seek new entities that no person would think it’s believable. Yes, there are others that have the same professionalism, but nowhere near Dib’s actual discoveries. 

Both arrived at the destination. At the cul-de-sac was a small stereotypical house that's in the middle of two apartment buildings. It has yard fences and decorations like the lawn ornaments in front, but there is an unnatural flag labeled “I Love Earth”. The housing, however, is the most unearthly yet normal at the same time. The walls were painted bluish sky, two disproportionate windows placed between a purple door that had a male sign commonly in public bathrooms, which it has a lighting affixed on top of it. But what makes it uncanny is a zipper-like line on the middle above the big window, looking like an opening. The roof had an unconventionally large satellite attached. And there are huge slate-grey tubes connecting next to the two apartments. It baffled Dib on how people did not even care to notice this house is too zany and too alien-y made. 

“There you are!” Zim and his poorly made disguise suddenly appeared from their sight, stomping over to them with Gir skipping, who still has Dib’s smallest size of scarlet shirt and a blue cap. Gir looked at the human children and greeted them with a loud screech, “HI MARY! HELLO MARY’s GAZ!” Gaz growled a little by the disruption, yet gave a small wave before playing back. Dib also did the same, half-smiling. 

“How did you manage to get rid of your parental unit?” Zim queried. 

“Well...” Dib snuck a look on Gaz and they both gave each other their discreetly twinkling of eyes. “We’d rather not mention it. Too sappy for your own good.” 

Zim recoiled in disgust, “Good to know you know my taste, human.” 

The boy snickered and gazed at the gnomes, which he knew firsthand that they're the defense for the house, “You think your gnomes know who’s boss?” 

“Pfft, they don’t know how my technology works.” 

“I can counter that,” Gaz joined in, demonstrating it by throwing some rock inside the yard. Instantly, the rock was disintegrated as the gnomes spun fast to the target with glowing crimson eyes. 

Dib had already come by the immediate fact that- 

“Zim, you do know what you said is that Vortians engineered most of the Irken technology, right?” Zim’s stunned face and hesitating to answer clarified it. 

The boy puffed out a breath, “Zim-” 

“No, shut your puny mouth, Dib-beast. This is just-er- a minor setback!” Zim chided. 

“Oh really? How can we get past them?” 

“Step back you idiots and give me a weapon,” Gaz pushed the two boys from each other to steer away from the uprising banter and lent out her hand to Zim. The alien understood quickly and brought out a pink-colored blaster, to which Dib remembered Zim built it last night. 

Gaz stepped in the yard, which got the brother worried, but she also did her job in a split second. As an expert of gaming, she must’ve been waiting for this moment to finally make use of her abilities that no one, besides the gaming community, would be accepting of in the face of society. Therefore, her shots were swift and precisely into the heads of the opponents, turning into sporadic movements and collapsing as their eyes’ glow faded. The gun drew a line of thin smoke, blowing it away by her. 

“Easy,” Gaz remarked, confidently yet calm, while she still holds her console on her other hand. She didn’t return the blaster and Zim did not argue about it as he just fisted upwards for a small victory and called Gir to come over. 

This is one of the advantages of having a menacing sister. 

The four knew where they would go for, and that’s on the left wall of the house, where the vent opening is located. Dib plucked out the screwdriver, but Zim stopped him in doing so. He puts his gloved hand to the vent lid and gripped it tight. Then, he miserably failed when he tried pulling it out hard, only to cause a wince and cradle his hand like he touched a fire. He must be still weak, since the only things they provided him was bandages and not Irken medkits.

Dib had an instinct to be curious when something’s wrong and raised his hand to assure the alien by the shoulder, but he declined it by swatting it away. It felt like the same thing he did to Dad, and thinking about it made his mood slightly bitter. 

“Just unscrew it,” Zim snaps, sliding beside for the boy to view the sealed vent. 

Dib let the curiosity and small concern slide, and began taking out the screws. 

Finishing the last one, they managed to pull it open.

Gaz hid her game on her bag and waited for Zim to go first. Their plan was mostly created by Zim’s idea since he knows the layout of his base. Dib added the stealth steps and Gaz for how the weapons would they turn out to be and its critical damage to metals, to which the pink blasters that Zim created for the three of them were born. For this matter, Zim will have to take the lead.

Irken faced Gir, commanding him in a low voice, “GIR, take off the clothes and give it back to the Dib. And I need you to be really, and I mean _really_ quiet. Do. Not. Laugh.” 

Gir saluted with the blue changing to red eyes. “Yes, sir!” He let Dib get the clothes off him, because he'd gone for the gesture of raising his arms up and expectantly looking at him, like a child waiting for a parent to take off their attire. After that, Dib actually thought he wouldn’t follow the latter of Zim's order, but he was more proper this time. Throughout the whole crawl, way down to the main base, Gir was quiet for the journey. Since Dib voted to be the second last one from the team, he suggested Gir from behind him (being the last one) if he wants to be inside the bag. The robot happily squealed by the offer and stuffed himself into his backpack, earning a short scolding from Zim and Gaz for being noisy. 

After the several minutes of struggling to find the right path and sweating heavily inside these several vent pipes, Zim halted the humans from moving, eyeing below him was another vent lid. “We’re here.” 

Dib gave his screwdriver to Gaz, who passed it to Zim. He listened for any footsteps underneath this vent, ensuring that if Zim is an idiot to drop in mistakenly. 

Zim silently removed the lid and peeked outside. 

He plopped to the ground with a faint thud later on, out from the siblings’ sight. This signaled for them that the coast is clear, Zim was still there and not making any noise indicated it was a good sign. Thus, Gaz started to go for the fall, hearing no loud sounds from Dib’s range. Next, it was his turn to jump, Zim catching him just in time before he could make a crash. He sensed Gir shifting and fumbling with a tiny whine, Dib had to mouth off an apology for the bag landing in Zim's arms first. Gir must’ve suffocated from the lack of space from Dib’s weight suppressing it. 

The three crouched immediately, sneaking to the next hiding spot Zim was leading them, and successfully undetected. 

Then Dib was amazed at how incredible the main base is. 

It was abnormally enormous that he wondered how did Zim make it this way. It consisted of strange yet riveting designs of definite alien contraptions. Everything about the walls is coated with fuchsia and French rose, albeit a little darker due to the dim lighting of some corners of the room. Most of the area compiled with tons of large tubes tangled together, especially the ceiling, not knowing where does it begin with or end on. The floor was as normal as any white-tiled floors, nothing really special. However, as he peered to the front, he marveled at the mainframe of the base, at least that’s what Zim said. There were panels so huge and other screens that were holographic. The largest screen had an Irken symbol, and the bottom of it says “LOADING”, but he didn’t bother to care to look at it again. And here where they’re hiding behind it right now, that Dib had a hunch, maybe a one of a kind alien technology that no human has ever seen, until now. Completely setting aside the need to sleep and the burning headache, he almost wanted to pass out from the intensity of his enthusiasm, but then he remembered what he was doing here for. 

He kept his giddy self in as he deeply inhaled to go back in focus . He stopped peeking for more and waited to listen for Zim’s signal. However, he seemed really busy staring at the mainframe too. 

The look on his face is livid. 

That was when he tried to dash to the front, where Dib took notice of the dozen robotic humans. Dib and Gaz instantaneously pulled him back at their hiding spot. He felt his heart race at the alien’s sudden attempt, taking a hurried look at their enemies. 

Fortunately, they were not disturbed, nobody staring back at them.

Breathing in and out, he whirled to Zim. “What was that?” Dib hissed. 

“They were trying to hack into my mainframe. I can’t just let their disgusting steel-“ 

“Zim,” Dib hushed him angrily, still agitated by Zim nearly giving out their cover. “I know you’re mad right now, but focus on the plan.” 

“But-“ 

“Just do the plan.” 

The boys were glaring at each other.

Then Gaz came to interrupt with bad news. 

Terrible news. 

“Look out!” Gaz yelled and they were all yanked away from their hiding spot. Dib watches as the robots took the other two farther from him and marched away, while Zim and Gaz kept fighting off helplessly. 

Dib struggled with his robot enemy seizing him by the collar of his coat, peering behind and boring into the realistic eyes of the robots, who was staring at him with contempt. 

On instinct, he flailed wildly to get himself off the coat, but only to realize the robot also held his shirt. Finding it was useless, he used the backup. 

“Gir, defensive mode!” 

On cue, Gir jumped off his bag with a loud screeching of ‘WEEE’, sticking his small robot body to the head of his captor and added an innocent, “I LIKE YA HEAD!” 

It- or a 'he', since it looked like it- staggered from its steps and released Dib. 

He got down clumsily, a little doozy from the lack of sleep, but retrieves his bo-staff quickly. He extended and impaled it through to the enemy’s waist. He chucked the staff out, causing the robot’s metallic guts, or just wires and cables, spurted out. Dib drifted to its back and didn’t hesitate to swing the weapon to the head, certain he Gir was still fine and still covering its face. The hit wasn’t that hard enough when the robot turned around, easily flung the cackling Gir from the face. 

Dib breathed and readied to lift up the staff to strike at it again. 

Then he got rammed all of a sudden and shoved to the ground roughly. He lost his grip from the staff and had been dropped from somewhere. But now he stares in small fear of the two robots looming over him, the one instantly catching him off guard by holding him down by the neck, choking him hard that Dib had to gasp and focus on trying to take the iron hand out. 

The memory struck him as he was comparing this position as the same as Winslow’s pinning him down by the chest. 

He panicked from gasping out air, frantically wanting to push the hand away from a part of his body. The other robot that he smacked against the back of its head was kneeling down at him, as if he was excruciatingly examining him, and it creeped him out to panic even more. 

Somebody barged in his eyesight, a growling Zim propelling the captors away from Dib. 

The boy sharply drew a breath, steadily stood up, and caught the staff that was thrown at him. He glances at Zim, who was seething through his clenched teeth. 

“We’re going for a plan B,” Zim snarls, pretty sure he was locking glares at the two robots and takes out his own weapon, which is another type of blaster. Dib has come to know that it was the blaster that can also be used in a dagger. 

Dib just nodded firmly and gently pushed him aside to let him do the work of finishing these two robots, “Get the computer running, Zim. I can handle this.” This plan is basically protecting Zim from the horde while he fixes his computer. It’s gonna be hard, especially since he and Gaz are small. But, if it goes well, the computer will be activated, and the systems will get rid of the intruders. Hopefully, Zim doesn’t kill him and Gaz as well. 

“You better.” And so he dashes to the mainframe, blasting and stabbing every robot in his away like an animal out of its cage. Dib caught sight of Gaz’s situation, who was just doing her headshots from her range and leaning against the wall, seemingly relaxed and stiffed at the same time. The robots were already crackling electricity from her side, collapsing to the ground in a heap of other dead robots. 

Dib clutched his staff tenaciously, looking back at the two robots regaining their composure. He prepared as the pair immediately broke into a sprint like a bull to a red flag. 

He blocked them off with the staff up front, despite it, he was slammed down the ground again, though Dib can have the upper hand while he has the staff in use. 

With his recently developed weapon, he can transform his weapon into a wheel, adding more of the metal poles that make it into spokes. This initiated a force field in front of him, each blue pixelated cubes connecting to each other like a virus to complete his cover, or in basic terms, a blue circular holographic shield.

It's unbelievable for an eight-year-old to even create, but nothing’s impossible when this is a prodigal son of the most well-known intelligent scientist and an Elite Irken Invader that knows how to innovate well. 

They were instantly affected by the shield, trying to outreach Dib, they drew back forcefully by Dib's little strength and the staff. The shield is suppose to be strong to keep them back, according to Zim.

Therefore, he later went for the assault while they were still glued to him on this ground, his thumb was pressing another button upon his wheel-like staff, starting up an electrical shock from the force field. It resulted of the robots’ static cries and knocked down unconscious, or most likely shut down since Dib’s watts is greatly increased than his taser or stun gun. 

Dib pushed the heavy weight of the tall human-robots away from him by his shield and scrambled to get up on his feet. He laughed nervously as he observed at the two robots fallen onto each other like dolls, heaving in needed breaths and hearing his heart beating rapidly.

His victory was short-lived, though, glancing from his side. More of the scientist-robots entered in the battle that came from the house up top, which now came from the elevator, all in a straight robotic position.

“Oh boy,” Dib muttered from panting, readying his shield. 

Dib pummeled the large portion of the dozens (It was a struggle since he's too small, but he managed.) from rushing to Zim and the mainframe, electrocuting the bots to explode its systems, seeing the parts of the skin popping out and few lose their heads, leaving a mess of cords. He scuttled out from another mass of dead robots, and wheeled his head to Zim. 

The alien was already pounded to the floor by several scientist-robots that he missed, now thrashing and yelling in muffled curses, “GET OFF ME YOU INSUFFERABLE PIECES OF SCRAPPED METAL. I WILL DISMANTLE YOU!” 

For a split-second decision, Dib darted to the pile of robots crushing Zim without any plan of action. He was running across tons of fallen scientists, not stopping and still had his brain barren of fighting them off without Zim getting electrocuted. Up to the point, Zim hollered at him, “GO FOR THE SWITCH, DIB!” 

He did not stop when one of the robots tried to catch him on his way, thrusting his shield in front of it. Just as he reached the panels where Zim and the robots just laid beside, he went for the obvious switch the handle was only lighted red. Grabbing the handle of the lever and pulling it down, the table of controls lighted up completely, and the screen says, “SECURITY SYSTEMS ONLINE” 

“YES!” Zim cheered, still being crushed.

Dib gasped just in time the other enemies nearing on him, about to take on his shield. 

“COMPUTER! ELIMINATE THE INTRUDERS!” Zim demanded. 

Dib sets his eyes on the firearms from the ceiling, different kinds of alien weaponry appearing from the walls. 

Then, it was a slaughter. 

The scientists were running away and avoiding as much as possible from the chaotic gunfire of the blasters, trying to escape to the elevator, but it began to close and seal off, unable for them to really flee out of this base. Some were hit and few tried covering themselves, only to be shot by Dib and Gaz. Not until he glimpsed a glowing blast coming at him, but was too late to react. 

But in a blink of an eye, a green flash whizzed at him and sent him aside. This caused Zim and Dib falling, with Zim above him since he was the one who pushed him off. Luckily enough, that awkward position was short and Zim rose up first for Dib to get up himself.

“COMPUTER, EXCLUDE THE HUMAN SMEETS!” 

Zim then frowns at him, “You have to stop getting yourself killed, you clumsy pig-smelly. You need an excessive amount of UNYEILDING training.” He lent him his hand, and Dib accepted it. He didn’t reply to the comment, only listening to the gunfire and loud metallic thuds of their bodies since the statement was true anyway. 

The firing started to fade when fewer of the scientists were on the move. It was until all of them were scattered in a mess of dead “corpses”, they were victorious.

Dib walked across the mound of the bodies, going over to Gaz, who looked uninjured but still panting in shallow breaths. His brotherly instincts caught up, grasping her shoulder. 

“You okay?” Dib breathed. 

“Yeah,” Gaz answered, and tilted her head to where he just realized a smashed gadget was splayed. “But my game isn’t,” She growled, but made no move to attack him or Zim afterward. She collected the pieces of her poor broken console and shoved them into her bag. She then spat at the nearest dead robot, scowling in great disdain. Dib backed out from her and her anger, pretty sure if he pries, he’ll be involved too. 

His next concern was Gir, but he can hear the chortling from behind, and he turned to see him running to Zim, who began to contort to a revolting face because Gir was hugging him on the waist. “WE DID IT!” Gir chirped joyfully, tightening his hug and Zim had to push him further to unlatch his robot arms off. 

“GIR, get off of me this instant!” 

“Okie!” Gir bounced away to somewhere else, without a care in the world. Dib predicted he might crash into something, and it did happen, leaving more laughter along the way. 

Zim sighed in exasperation, later on treading back to the controls. 

Dib observed the whole area, filled with countless dead scientists that were spurting out its cords and buzzing of electricity. It was a great aftermath of mayhem, but they won. And Dib couldn’t stifle to laugh again. He felt like he had actually accomplished something great, more than his inventions. It’s about how he became victorious, after all those losses by being pushed around like a loser. 

“Holy crap, that was awesome!” He blurted it out, releasing all the excitement and energy that it dwindled his headache. 

“Yes, sure, human. Might as well celebrate because my PAK is not damaged and all,” Zim said sarcastically, which kind of made Dib proud but still offended. 

Dib rolled his eyes, knowing already of the underlying issue, but the mere fact that he dampened his mood, made him sour, "Hey come on, you’re no fun. Have a little optimism."

“The optimism you’re talking is nothing compared to a broken PAK, Dib-stink. Do you know what would be the consequences if I leave this PAK unrepaired? It would be-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know, disastrous outcomes,” Dib mutters, though Zim heard it and did not continue his statement. 

“Indeed, human. Now, will you three stay quiet while Zim handles this pile of garbage?” 

Dib voiced a non-committal sound, but it was in agreement, so Zim doesn’t need more confirmation. 

In the meantime, he could do some exploring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, Dib may or may not have learned those clumsy dodging skills from Gaz playing her VR game like in the comics. 
> 
> Or it was just watching action movies.


	3. Creepily Tranquil Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib had the best time at supper, but the worst time at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this is triggering and how I've gotten the character coping and dealing with it badly. I want to keep them in character as possible.
> 
> TW Panic attack or mental breakdown, insomnia, mild hallucinations, and PTSD

“You have to admit, the real-life alien shooting was cooler than we’ve ever done in our entire life!” 

“That’s what you think. Games are much cooler.” 

“Whatever you say. But you did like it.” 

“Hmm, did I like getting my console smashed?” 

“Well… let’s not include that part.” 

“Hmph.”

"What is with you and Zim ruining the fun?" If Gaz heard him mumble, she did not satisfy him with an answer. 

After the hours of scouring Zim’s base of the scorch marks and got rid of the metal bodies of scientists, Zim rounded up the occupants of his house. That meant Dib had to stop exploring around the base (Even though, he had only got five minutes of the free time.) and Gaz chilling from the living room. It was fun while it lasted. Seeing new entities and how expandable his alien base is really exhilarating to miss his camera and take pictures, wanting to prove to himself and to others that this was real. Everything he had come upon is _real_. Zim told him about the base's many rooms, such as the named observatory room, medical center, security cores, and so much more that he kind of forgotten along with the alien's rambling about how magnificent his base is. Unfortunately, he had admonished him to not go back into his alien lair again. But, at the last minute, he will permit them if he chooses to or there's a serious situation that may involve them, which thrilled him to absolutely accept the terms.

Until then, Zim reminded the two they have to go home since they have a strict curfew. The siblings gave a farewell to the alien and his servant, and left the house to the sidewalks. 

Now at this late hour of six, they were nearing their household, which is earlier for dinner and no scolding about being late again.

“Gaz?” His voice suddenly changes from lively to sullen, thinking of one thing that brought him out from his imaginings. 

“What?” 

“Do you think… do you think we can change Dad’s mind about Zim?” 

Not really expecting the question, Gaz looked up at her brother in a face mixed of confusion and annoyance. 

“And why would you think that?” 

“It’s just…” Dib trailed off, still trying to find an answer. 

Ever since Dib had gathered enough information that Zim _does care_ about him after all those rescuing from dangerous events like what happened earlier (and that was twice), he thought that, maybe, Zim can change for the better. Then, he would have hang-outs on his house and from the Skool cafeteria, making small banters and petty arguments that Gaz has to give them a punch to the face. He would offer them to watch movies in his house, or he and Gaz play games overnight. And maybe, Dad can accept him as a part of them. A part of a family. 

Nevertheless, he knew those were fantasies not bound to happen unless he acts on it. Zim may look like he cares about him, but he wanted to be sure that he doesn’t go ruling the world before he can truly confirm it. He is hellbent on a take over on Earth, that at some point, would spoil their mere relationship of them being distant friends. He would have to abandon his memories of them hanging out in that underground confinement, throwing food, and arguing like children. He will have to figure some way to take Zim on a different path. To unite Zim and his father without trying to kill themselves like last time. Or not try to kill Zim like last time. 

“I dunno. Maybe I could make amends between them so, y’know, they won’t kill each other,” And as he continues to talk, it felt like it was useless in the end. 

Gaz had her one eye opened and locked at his amber ones. He averts them away, a tinge of shame and regret from asking it, since Gaz replied to this next, “It’s not gonna be easy. Dad still won't grant you permission for your paranormal hunting, and Zim made a truce with you so you two could have a fair fight. It’s not a matter of feelings, Dib.” At least, she wasn’t irritated when she explained it, more like leaning onto stating a fact. 

“Yeah, I know. This situation is worse than I thought. I mean, I thought I could have time back then at IGE,” He shrugged helplessly. “Not everything goes according to plan.” That line already verifies it from the fight earlier. 

It’s hard to come up with solutions when something nearly impossible for Zim to have such emotions due to how many times he had established that Irkens don’t do friendships and love, while Dad’s noticeable hatred for Zim that Dib doesn’t know where it came from but his only lead was the paternal instincts. 

A sudden whip of the wind hit him, causing to shiver as the night keeps getting colder by the minute. Apparently, winter is starting this October, indicating a change of clothing when going out next time. A bummer that Dib will have to wear a jacket and remove his favorable trench coat, but he can tolerate with it.

“But,” Gaz speaks up, bringing Dib’s attention to her instead of the cold breeze and muffled thoughts. He wrapped his arms around himself for cover, all the while listening to his sister, "There is time. You and Zim can do whatever now that he’s out of the IGE.” 

“You mean, hang-out with him?” 

“Well, duh.” Then, she went back on looking across the road, and Dib is left to ponder. 

Zim may not like friends or emotional conversations, but he could at least try to warm him up to that stage. After all, he hasn’t had a friend for his whole life as much as Zim hasn’t due to cultural differences, and this truce can benefit both parties to develop. 

He likes to hope for it. 

Alas, they reached their destination, approaching the front door of their house. 

A loud pop erupted just as they entered the room, surprising and flinching both siblings reflexively. 

And from what they see, countless of colored confetti raining were down at them, and a large slogan of computerized “WELCOME HOME” was hanging on the ceiling. 

“Welcome home, my children!” Membrane boomed with delight, appearing at the doorway of the dining room. 

“Surprised?” Their father awaits their response, strangely yet normally exuberant, whilst Dib was wide-eyed, bewildered, and speechless.

The last time he’d seen his father was upset and disappointed at his actions. He had been nothing but to burden his bad aura against his depressive state in the hospital. Although there were some moments he was a try-hard to be a worrisome father, specifically the parts where he babies him. Now, a change of pace of the emotions disturbed Dib. It was like they were back to normal and there weren't any tensions at all.

“Uh-” Dib raised a brow at Dad, unable to make a coherent sentence or even think. Gaz eventually went cool by it, asking in her usual tone, “Cool, Dad. What’s the occasion?”

“Oh well, it’s about Dib’s celebration dinner!” 

“W-What?” Dib stuttered, taking a scene of the living room. The floor was dispersed of confetti. The ceiling was decorated with alternative sky blue and lilac purple pendant banners, probably signifying Dib and Gaz’s favorite colors (which he was surprised that his neglectful parent would even know about those). Everything is still the same but the party decors. 

Membrane resumed his statement to make it clear, his head spun to him, “Ever since you have been released from the hospital after the weeks, it would rather be nice for this to be a celebration for your long recovery.”

“But, don’t you think I still have to still recover though?” Dib recalled his reminder about staying in the house more, but his father laughed it off, “Of course you’re still grounded and in need of rest for a few days, but this is for the party about your successful survival from the weeks of resting in the hospital. Isn’t it great to be free?”

"Not exactly,” Dib forced himself to murmur instead, not wanting on his father’s bad side because admittedly, he gave the effort at attempting to cheer him up. It wasn’t that he hated the surprise party after his release, but it was honestly a bit of an exaggeration to even prepare for this. Especially coming from his Dad. 

It’s not like this moment would even be repeated in the long run. He’s gonna be busier with his reconstructing his business, and everything else that’s on his plate. Everything that doesn’t involve him or Gaz, not if they make any wrongdoings.

“Now come! The food is at the table,” The father moved to the dining room and his children followed, one was dubiously perplexed and the other was typically relaxed. They walked to the designated room and laid their eyes on the various favorable foods settled on the table. Several boxes of pizza, couple jars of chocolate chip cookies, a plate of steak siding with fries, and above all, Dib’s favorite food, a plate of burritos.

Dib undeniably grinned when he spotted his preferred food, and did not comment as he immediately seeks to climb up his chair, similar with Gaz on her pizza. His Dad was laughing quietly from their skittish endeavor to get up their high-stool chairs, until Dib felt hands underneath his armpits, and lifted him up to his chair. The same lift was done to Gaz, then they both devoured their chosen cuisines. He saw briefly of Dad sitting down to eat his steak, sometimes allowing the children to partake of the fries. All in all, Dib ate them with mirth, for this time, glad that his father knew about his preferable food. He always goes to a burrito restaurant to get it, his father is always preoccupied that he just gives him a large number of allowances. How he did know about it, is a mystery, but elated that he did.

Hence, he asked, “How did you know my favorite was burritos, Dad?” while he talked with his mouth half-full of churned burrito, but still comprehensible. 

He might have thought his father would reproach him of having bad manners at eating, but he didn't. Dad light-heartedly chuckled on his antics, “I knew the moment I keep seeing you in the screens, at times you were holding burritos while you watch your show.”

“Oh... yeah. I guess it makes sense,” Dib trails, inwardly slapping his brain that he might’ve slipped it for the past years of being in surveillance by a father on a hovering television screen.

For the gobbling down a few more burritos and fries, Dib drank a full glass of water to make sure the food doesn’t get obstructed on his throat. Choking on food isn't fun when it lasts for more than a minute. He didn’t question his father's motive for this, nor giving him a straight face. He bit his lip after a moment of Gaz still consuming her pizza, and the professor finally done with his meal.

Eventually, Dib expressed it, “Thank you.”

Maybe it was just the simple gratitude or the fact he knew his favorite food and color. Or maybe it loosened the tension in the air at the point his father looked at ease and happy about that simple appreciation.

“You’re welcome, son.” 

A pang of remorse and warmness hit him hard, coming a faint twitch of his lip. 

* * *

Dib woke up again in the middle of the night. He wasn’t laying on his bed like he used to, but leaning against the wall and sitting cross-legged.

“Ugh, not again,” Dib mutters under his breath, leaning more onto the wall and kneading his temples in order to lessen the heavy headache rising, craning his neck to a better position. He regretted the moment he did, feeling his breath pick up by the cracking sounds and frantically surveyed the room. After that, he laid back against the wall to blow out some steam with the disappointment in himself.

He should’ve known procrastinating on taking his prescriptions is consistently bad when he’s forgetful, now knowing he can unintentionally sleep and drool to his shirt. Since the nightlight was off and his blurry vision would see from nearest light source available, which is the laptop and it was still running. It was displaying the website of the Swollen Eyeball Network. The messages were small on its chatbox, so he had to rub his eyes and pick up his glasses. Supposedly that night, he was to report about his poor condition, and the assignments had to be delayed. They responded with a blunt affirmation, at least, only one replied to him for it and was the same guy who sent him for the missing children back months ago. Speaking of which, it was never resolved, and Dib will have to figure it out at some point in time. 

He breathed out the distress and wiped his mouth clean. He rubbed his eyes more, it was getting unhealthy, he might hurt his eyes. He later on gazed at his clock. 

He was wrong about the middle of the night. It was proved it has been past three hours in the middle of the night, making it another three in the morning, specifically half-past three. And his message was sent three hours ago, meant he only slept _three_ _hours_ , again. And just to add the worse part, it’s still a Skool night. 

It's as if nightmares weren’t enough to stress him out. 

The boy stuffed the pillow on his face and groaned loudly, falling his upper body down to the mattress while the lower was stuck on an Indian’s style of sitting. 

This isn’t exactly how insomniacs would be, according to the sites he have been searching for its symptoms. Usually, they only felt incomplete at doing something and do it in order to satisfy the mind to drift back to sleep. But Dib’s own sleeping habits is a bundle of mess. Waking up at night is a pain for the head and the constant reminders of _that_ scary event. He hates the days he had to keep his eyes wide open when the dawn rises, sometimes getting only 1-3 hours of sleep, and the other 3-4 hours were mixed sections from sleeping at night and at daylight. 

Now, this is the first time he woke up in a tired sleepy state and instead pondering on how to sleep, he was thinking of how to stay awake. 

Then again, he didn’t sleep yesterday, spent an all-nighter, working on preparations for the attack on the base. He had used his energy on fighting off robots and eating burritos (Hopefully, he won’t puke). And he did spend his time messaging the Swollen Eyeball and researching some paranormal for entertainment.

_God, I really suck_ His thoughts concur.

It was too late to go back to sleep as long as this dilemma persists. He doesn't want to come back with another sweat and tears. 

He has the choice to go back to get a shut-eye this time, though. His exhaustion was visibly showing that proves he has a chance of sleeping tonight. 

The fear of dealing with Winslow again is haunting him. 

He wants to clear his mind off of that guy, and what better to do is to get water and watch movies. It’s unhealthy, but better than the nightmares. Skool night or not, he’s not going back in there.

He threw the pillow away and slid the laptop aside to drop down his bed with a soft thump. He stretched his arms, alongside a large yawn. 

Barefooted, he walked out of his room, tiptoeing downstairs to get to the kitchen. When he saw that no one was on the living room, he stepped even further down. 

The air outside is chilly tonight, Dib had to envelop himself from the wind blowing in his way, involuntarily shook his whole body, despite the windows were all seemingly shut. At the time he reaches the dining room, he wasn’t noticing his surroundings that much due to dragging himself automatically and how worn out he’s in, causing to bump at something, tumbling backward from his weak enervated legs. 

He fell down his butt, which half-hurts, but it stirs up his consciousness better, enabling him to make an effort to look up what he hit. 

Or who he hit. 

“Zim?” Dib drowsily regained his senses, perking up at the form that has a pair of antennae. 

There, was his alien friend, startled and rigid evidenced by his alarmed magenta slits piercing at his dopey eyes. His arms were behind his back and his entire front is on Dib’s vision, but he did not question that first. 

His uniform was clean and untethered, along with his whole skin healed as well. It was obvious that Zim must have cleaned himself in the base.

“What’re you doing here?” The boy yawned, lifting himself off the floor. 

Zim changes his stupefied expression to a dirty look, “None of your business, Dib-thing. Now stay quiet and go back to your sleeping habit.” He awkwardly moved to the kitchen sink backward, where the open window would be.

Dib squinted in skepticism, quickly running to block his way out, and analyzing the body language of the Irken as he immediately turns his front to Dib's point of view. Guessing that there was something hidden, he had his index finger point out on the hands behind his back, asking accusingly, “What’s that on your back?”

The alien stiffened, loudly whispering, “My hands, of course!” 

“Show them to me.” Dib gestures his hand to give, with an inquisitive look, standing by the front of the sink. In spite of Zim having the possibility of simply jumping over him since the Irken has been training when he was born, he just stayed there and being the incessant alien he is.

“Zim doesn’t need to show his hands. You already know I have a pair of it.”

“Then why are you hiding it?”

“As I have said, none of your business.”

“It is my business when the fact you’ve broken into my home and may have stolen something.”

“No, I have not.” The small flinch of that one antenna and the quick change of voice from calm to disapproving deduced the answer for Dib. After all, he has some experiences with being caught red-handed. 

“Just show what you’ve stolen, Zim. You could’ve just asked,” Dib sighs, really tired of talking. All he ever wanted is to be alone for the night, a glass of water to drink, and splash the leftover droplets to his face to make himself more awake. But he couldn’t do that with people keep snooping onto his private time.

He waited for the moment Zim puffed and given up to show a glass jar of cookies. 

Dib wonders how he knew about it. Dad just gave it to them during the surprise dinner. Did he just suddenly found it with his alien tech to x-ray the house or any other cool alien stuff? Or found it by luck? Why is he even in his house to get sweets? 

“There. Now can I go?” His tone was harshly polite, which Dib would’ve laughed on because Zim is asking for his permission to leave. Though, not right now. His headache is getting worse by standing, legs are incredibly feeble, and his throat is dry. 

“You can’t just steal someone’s jar. Especially that’s my jar of cookies.” He was certain that he hasn’t eaten the desserts after he felt full of the burritos. But Gaz had lessened hers, surely the appearance would be a small quarter of space from the container. This specific jar was not touched, until now.

Dib tried to snatch the jar from Zim’s hands after he said he’s stealing, but the other resisted returning by motioning it away from his reach.

“Zim is not stealing. I am just borrowing,” The alien defended. 

“That’s not how borrowing works.” 

“You’re lying,” He seethes, furrowed in mistrust and disbelief. Partly, Dib is glad he did not shout with his iconic ‘YOU’RE LYING’. The other part of him was frustrated that he had to think of a compromise. Zim won’t buy cookies because he doesn’t have money and Dib is running low on allowances to even get a single one, so sharing would be suited enough to satisfy both, if Zim wants to share at all. 

“Here. Give me the jar, and I promise you will get some.” 

“But I want all,” Zim had the audacity to actually whine like a spoiled child.

Then again, it is Zim. 

“Zim, this is called sharing. Wanting it all is stealing.” He slowly stated as if he’s teaching a three-year-old. It should be the opposite. Though, his statement isn’t exactly true since the owner could grant him to take it all if he chooses to. However, Dib favors his cookies more than being too much of a goody-two-shoes. 

And Zim is stubborn as much as Dib is, but more annoying. 

“Zim would rather steal it.” 

“Come on, Zim. I’m not gonna argue with you on some cookies.” Banter is a good distraction, in a way. Zim doesn’t sleep, and Dib has an opportunity of doing something with him. But this is the first time he feels tired at night yet it’s impossible to drift into unconsciousness. The fact that this stupid headache keeps following him whenever he’s awake is just an addition that bantering would only cause stress from the brain and most likely pain.

Zim scoffed, “Then don’t argue.” He climbed up the sink, ready to jump outside the window with the jar in hand. 

And Dib? He lets him go, deciding for a drink. Yes, he wants the cookies back, but he doubts he would win the quarrel when he’s in a poor state of mind. Drinking lukewarm water would be preferable than having a sugar rush, anyways. He’ll question him on lunch break on as to why- of all houses that have younger children and much more sweets than their house- had to break in theirs, which was secured with Membrane’s high tech traps and security. Zim may have done something from it, possibly with his alien tech or sneaking very carefully. He hopes that he turns it on again because the only one who would be putting the blame here is Dib if his father finds out. He would assume that he did hack the security systems due to Dib’s yearning to go anywhere than his house or Skool. 

He used a complementary child stool just from the end of the L-shaped counter, dragging it to the right position to get up for a glass from a specific cupboard. He just walked at the countertop to make it to the sink, turning the faucet to release the tap water. In the midst of the glass being filled, he shivered from the window beside him still open, incredibly freezing. It stimulated his body to invigorate itself, which worked until he had to shut the sill close when he was done with the sink. He gazed at the outside for a while, witnessing the snow is already in the works of spreading and raining around the roadways and the fields, and no sign of Zim.

Skipping past on chugging the glass straight to his parched mouth, he left it for Foodio 3000 that may have a chance to clean it up by the morning. With his mind and body desperately wishing the owner to hit the hay, but he shook it away and blinked, assuredly he won’t accidentally fall asleep. Now, he walks to the living room to get some entertainment.

Before he slouches down on the couch, grabs the remote and presses the power button, the television screen flashed to a blinding brightness, but it barely lights up the whole room. 

Conveniently, the movie playing was “Alien”. 

He plays the movie in disinterest, due to having this repeatedly aired several times that he could pretty much remember their dialogues. Although, it wasn’t really boring, per se. In fact, Dib can be terrified at some moments in the movie, because he just recently discovered there is an alien existing on this planet. He might want to take notes if this exact scenario comes to reality. Just in case. 

For what it seemed like minutes, Dib is starting to lose focus of the bright screen.

He strove his best to keep his eyes peeled, blinking rapidly and soaking the horrific elements of the movie.

However, his brain is slowly shutting down. In no time, he won’t be remembering that he’s sleeping. 

The moment he let his guard down, is when Dib suddenly sees the movie’s end credits. He was lucky there wasn’t a single dream that popped up when he directly fell asleep. 

It was also when he saw a figure next to him. And he was pretty certain there _was_ _n’t_ any figure next to him earlier. 

He instantly jumped as his head tilts to meet the ruby pools of Zim’s slits, verily close from his face which resulted in him inadvertently falling off the couch from shock.

The Irken cackled of his misfortune, earning a glare from the boy.

“You humans are so clumsy and fragile, it’s pathetically funny,” Zim remarked, grinning arrogantly.

Dib picked himself up, feeling a twinge erupted from his head due to hitting against the hard floor. This is truly killing his mood.

“Why are you still here? To just make fun at me?” Dib complained at his sudden presence, aggravated that Zim just enters someone’s house without any consent. 

The alien snickered in amusement, probably from his disheveled appearance, or the tone of childish complaint.

“Supposedly so, Dib-human. But it seems like you already humiliated yourself, so my work here is done.” 

Dib grumbled angrily in response, turning the TV off before flopping back on the sofa, slumping slowly from the small embarrassment and tiredness. The shows were getting wearisome, a conversation with him would be much better than getting caught with the TV on. Or for the worse. “What are you doing here, exactly?” He wouldn’t buy with Zim’s effortless excuse to bully him at this time of night. 

He caught a glimpse of Zim sitting along with him. He was mildly grimacing than his usual crotchety face. Dib didn't probe into it, too tired and cranky to care right since Zim did laugh at his shock.

To Dib's surprise, he was looking at a jar upon his lap. The cookies inside were untouched and the container is still full to the brim. 

Dib didn’t stand up to see more of it, idly said the words because he’s doesn't have the lively passion to shout and tease, “What’s up with it? Not your taste?” 

The Irken still stared at the jar in the disdain, then sneering at his way. “I hate you.” 

“Mhm,” Was all he could reply with the energy he has left. Zim isn’t really much for sentiments, but if they could look into him deeper into that stubborn desensitized soul, maybe it’s possible there’s something else that he said he doesn’t want to say. 

Or it’s just that Zim being Zim and there’s nothing really to do about it but agree to disagree. 

He sees from his side, Zim was gripping the container hard, his gloved hands shaking slightly. Dib raised his head a little, eyeing at Zim in concern. “Are you okay?” 

The said alien huffed, opening the lid to consume one of his cookies. Dib scrunched his face with a weak “Hey!” from what it looks like, he's teasing him by eating his supposed desserts in front of his face.

That until Zim spoke up about something else. 

“Someone is spying on you.” 

A pregnant pause was stretching between Zim and Dib, allowing the time for the boy to turn the cogs of his brain to understand what he had said. It was up to the point the latter uttered, “What?”

Zim grunted and placed the jar down the sofa between him and the boy. He stretched his arm to his back, fumbling something from his Pak.

It didn’t take too long for him to show a paper of some dots (Mostly there were red-colored) and white outlined boxes in a dark background. It all resembled a printed scan of signatures of something, which it may likely be. “I’ve taken examination on the damages of the mainframe and re-checked the signals on my house, one is for detecting any heat signatures in the surrounding district. And it happens to be four people nearby your exact house. Except the other one is…” His one-fingered claw pinpointed on a specific outlined box, which has three red marks and the other one is a dull grey.

Dib shifted his seat to a more comfortable position and assessed the whole map, Zim letting him hold the reading. Whilst the other boxes have red markings, the pink box has an only magenta dot, which Dib acquainted that it’s Zim. To where the Irken said, was his house just a few squares away from Zim’s base. And true to his word, there was one that’s a different color than the other dots.

“Why is this… not alike?” Zim knew what he was talking about.

Dib listened to his friend’s short elucidation, “Zim has coded your species as red based on your blood pigmentation. The grey one is obviously a different type of species.”

“Wait, wait,” Dib was now beginning to be intrigued by the fact that another alien has set upon Earth. Which may be bad, but it’s still fascinating. “You’re saying that another alien was watching us?” 

Zim sent him a blank look for his unexpected giddiness (Dib thinks it’s fine because he’s a fan of the paranormal), blatantly telling him, “Yes, human. Another alien was watching you.” 

“That’s… creepy and weirdly interesting.” Dib shuddered with both fear and excitement. Expanding his fear further, it’s because if there was another alien besides Zim was spying while they were asleep, then his whole family is in trouble. Or he could think on the bright side that another alien could study upon, not that Zim would care for. “Do you know what kind of alien this is?"

Zim hummed and scratched his chin, “It could be either a Nhar-Gh’ok or so-“ 

“A Nar- what-“ 

“OR,” Zim loudly emphasized and snatched the paper from Dib’s hand, which jerked the boy to silence. The alien went back to reading the paper, creasing his face. “OR, it could be some sort…” Zim seemed to have a shocking realization as he widened his eyes, gaping with horror at the sheet. His expression was slowly worrying the boy, his renewed euphoria withering. “Some sort of what?”

Zim stares at the grey dot, before at him, firmly settling with the dreadful answer that Dib didn’t want to hear. 

“It might be a Vortian.” 

Dib froze, his heart sinking deep. 

There was a stretch of time, Zim staring at him silently, maybe observing his wide-eyed expression

Up to the point, Dib inhales and exhales gradually till like he’s running out of air, about to shout it aloud.

“Say wh-?!” Zim immediately puts his hand to cover Dib’s mouth, shushing him sharply (or maybe hissing).

“Shut your puny mouth. We can talk this in your room, not with your parental unit who is just below us.” He directs his head to the staircase, shooting Dib a look.

He nodded frantically, but was too entranced on the name “Vortian”. The alien that once Zim said to be... Winslow.

Henry Winslow. The Vortian in disguise and his murderer. Well, was almost a murderer.

The memories flashed back at the IGE, where he could feel his whole backside being forced to meld with the smooth dense floor. He remembers the crack of his ribs, the foot crushing on his poor frail frame. He was quivering in fear of early death, hearing his own relentless whimpers and gasps, thinking he was going to die then and there. That he may never see his family, Zim, and Gir. That he may never be able to know what his future self would uphold. He’s only at the age of eight and he’s going to die. 

“Dib-stink?” Zim called, but it felt faraway. Dib began crippling on the sofa and huddling himself tight. He barely noticed his sharp intake of breaths and the indecipherable calls and muffles. He couldn’t care less anyways, all he was thinking about is _Winslow_. 

His brain was throbbing like it was going to blow. The thousands of questions of how’s and why’s, overflowing them until it was the only matter that stayed: the probability of Winslow returning. 

The same Winslow that had made him feel helpless when he tried to squirm in desperation. How he reverberated a peal of small malevolent laughter throughout his torture, enjoying and pleasuring himself from seeing him incapable of doing anything but cry for help. The experience was extremely jarring, traumatic. He’s the reason he can’t sleep daily. He's the reason he can’t eat well. He’s the reason his father’s lifetime of works destroyed. He’s the reason Zim’s Pak was terribly damaged.

Something came into contact on both of his shoulder, then the world was spinning violently as the thing was vigorously shaking him to no end. Dib’s breath hitched, a flat-lined sound rang from his ears, and his body was quaking, and the evident race of the heartbeats drumming loudly.

He managed to raise his vision upward.

He sees that everything engulfing him in complete darkness, and the only one towards him, the only outline of anything from the nothingness, was Winslow.

“NO!”

It prompted him to smack Winslow’s hand away from his shoulder, springing farther from him and the couch, but pathetically slipping down the floor after.

“St-stay away from me!"

The horrible nightmares are reoccurring again, and it’s real.

Dib thought he wouldn’t be here anymore, Zim said so himself. He said that he killed him. He said Vortians can’t withstand hard concrete on their pain tolerance. Zim saw his body crumpled from the fallen building, certainly not going to come back. He's supposed to be claimed as _dead_. Dib thought Winslow wouldn’t be here anymore, only hallucinations and nightmares he did exist. He thought he would be free from his fears that he would come back for real.

Well, that was a lie. 

Dib scampered across the floor, only the sensation of anguish and hopelessness were dominating his emotions, motivating him to keep running away from this horrendous man.

"Help, please!"

His voice was indistinct, but he can discern he was hiccupping and gasping for air. He can make out a burst of tears swimming on his face, continuously. It all looked reminiscent of his first time of the miserable boy he is. The moment Winslow stripped away his confidence to keep himself good and collected.

He lost his bravery.

He numbed everything out, his arms wrapping above his head and propping his legs up to his chest. His face was hidden as he put it down on his knees, concealed from everything around him. He wants to shut it all out. As if there was a war zone surrounding him, where loud rippling explosions and guns firing everywhere. He was like that one innocent, trying to survive a war he couldn’t control.

Something was lifting him off the ground. Dib imagined it must be God reclaiming him and releasing him away from living. He imagined that Winslow would vanish and he was with a happy family full of happy moments. 

Fantasies are never to come true. 

Something held him by a hand to his lower face, more specifically the chin.

The next, an instant sting on his left cheek left him out of his wretched stupor, feeling the mild burn from the side of his face. He cleared out his tears blurring his eyes, blinking profusely to seek what hit him.

Zim was kneeling in front of him, stern yet petrified at the same time, his hand was dangling upwards and the other was on Dib’s chin, viciously gripping as he was forced to look up at him.

Dib stares at him in a more dazed state, mind going vacant. He didn’t remove the hand from his chin, solely processing what just occurred. He’s not in the IGE anymore, the familiarity set in when he processed it’s his room. The monitor on the desk, the child-sized turquoise office chair, and his drawings of the cryptids dispersed from the ground. He tilts his head slightly from his side, spotting the short ladder from his bed. 

He didn’t realize sooner that Zim loosens, taking out of his hands from Dib, now looking inflamed. 

“What on Irk was that?!” He screams in a hushed tone. 

Dib didn’t answer, though, rather cradling the mild burning cheek, nursing as it stung. Zim grumbled exasperatedly, standing up, and slammed a paper to his desk. Or -from what it looked to be- a map of the neighborhood, particularly the detector reading he'd shown earlier

“You cease your _icky_ schmooping or else we won’t be able to fix my PAK and destroy that alien,” Zim spoke, not daring to gaze back at the boy. 

“Wh-what?” Dib looks up at him disconcertingly, couldn’t really keep his head around in the present. It was like his mental capacity to think has reset itself. His hiccupping and the sting were the things he was centering for now. “D-Did you just-“ 

“Yes, yes. I slapped your puny brain since you won’t shut up on screaming your way to another punishment from your father-unit,” He waves him off, walking over to the desk and placing the paper on it.

“Are you... in a clear mind now?” Zim reluctantly turns to Dib with an unreadable expression. It took him seconds to process before he replied to him with an unassertive hum of ‘yes’, now removing his hand from touching the small pain on his cheek, and sat cross-legged, fully comprehending he was in. 

He first wiped away the snot and tears by his shirt, ashamed that he just had a breakdown in front of the Irken. Even worse, he almost got the him caught if it weren’t for his quick thinking to send themselves to Dib's room.

Zim seemed to be patiently waiting for Dib to clean his crying mess, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms, showing a perturbed look.

After that, Dib tries to apologize, but didn’t get to from a sharp hiss from Zim, “No, I do not want your disgusting ‘sorry’. The thing about this-“ He roughly pierced his claw at what Dib supposedly knew was that particular reading. “-Is that there could be any species from other planets, not just the rogue Vortian.” Dib flinched, finding the name to be triggering every time he says it.

Nonetheless, he let him continue, “In the case, there are more different kinds of the blood from other species that I haven’t encoded yet, so _we can’t_ jump into conclusions.” A quick scowl targeted at Dib made him frown, “It’s not like you don’t know how a human functions when they get worked up, Zim.” 

“Oh yes, because I don’t want to know. You humans and emotions are stupid and gross anyways. What Zim focuses on are the human customs.” The remark gave the boy a sense of an offending rage from the ignorance of the alien, not regarding the fact a mental breakdown of a child is bad. He only threw that thought out from his head when it shot him a pounding headache. Other than that, Zim’s narcissism won’t try and make things better if he did confess about his trauma. 

Disregarding to his small mental breakdown just minutes ago, he keeps his composure strong. Right now, he asked the important objectives, “How do we get it? The alien, I mean.”

Zim deadpans, as if he was acting dumb, “We can’t strike our opponent head-on. The PAK is the only thing of help if we’re going to encounter that alien. And the repair so far from this revolting ball of dirt.”

“Wait, what? I thought you’ve already fixed it back at the base.”

A disgruntled sigh escaped from the Invader, frowning deeply, “I've inspected my base to be… thieved by those scientists. One is the repair center, where the PAK legs stored off. It was is already beyond repair itself. The PAK’s inner damages of it are mostly stabilized, but without my PAK legs, I can't coordinate in battle.”

The boy curtly nodded in understanding, knowing what Zim told about Irkens are dependent on their Paks when it comes to combative assaults. “So, how can we get it fixed then?”

He mused on the question, scratching his chin, “That’s the problem, Dib-stink. My base isn’t a serviceable repair center for new PAK legs. I can’t even call the Tallest for assistance because they permanently corrupted my communication signals. The only way I would be able to have the legs back is from- Blarghit,” Zim facepalms, vexed by the end, which confused the other. He didn’t know how much damage had the scientists done to his base. They are really trying- or in a terrifying case that Winslow- to keep Zim at bay until he dies. Until the Vortian has the chance to rule the Earth before Zim does. “Blarget? That’s where can we find it?”

“What, no that’s not-“ Zim inhales, the face was evidently emanating the indignation, before he could explain it, “Obviously, it’s not from your planet. The second most obvious is that it’s from Irk.”

Dib widened his eyes at the name, ignoring the headache as he leaned more onto the information on what Zim has to say. “Irk? You mean going to-“

“Yes, flying to my home planet. Stop your repetitive questions, it’s annoying.”

“… Your annoying,” Dib instinctively murmurs, half-relieved that the Invader hadn’t heard it, by the looks of no flinching of the antennae, but he wished he could’ve. He coughed it off, “So… does that mean you’re gonna leave Earth?”

“What did Zim just say about repeating-“

“Yeah, I know, I know, sorry. But this means we’re gonna just leave my planet vulnerable from that alien we haven’t know about it yet?”

“What?” Zim cocks a non-eyebrow, back at it again with crossing the arms, a dark scowl emitted for him. “There is no ‘we’ in flying to Irk. _You_ -“ He points his finger at him, commanding him in a firm tone, “-Are going to stay here and not let that stupid alien get to conquer my mission.”

Now it was Dib’s turn to raise a brow, taken aback that Zim actually assigned to him for a special task. While yes, he does have the capabilities of defeating the alien before it can rule his planet (though, there is a nagging fact that he hasn’t had the experience to do it, but, befriending one alien is kind of a win). However, this meant he’s the only one who would be doing all the work.

To which he didn’t mind at all. 

With that done, he liked to give Zim a little teasing, “You’re entrusting me? To make sure the alien wouldn’t be stealing your mission?”

Zim looked like he was about to counter it, preparing his one finger raised and opening his mouth, but cut off when he caught on the realization. Then, his face contorted into slight disgust, answering it while he grits his teeth, “Yes.”

A cheeky smile was found twisting from his lips, which provoked Zim's irritation more, twitching his one slit. “Focus the task at hand, Dib-idiot. Then maybe Zim will reconsider killing every person in this disgusting tiny planet.”

“Yeah, okay," Dib let out a tired chuckle, automatically thinking that he wouldn’t truly do that. He has a truce to uphold, after all.

There is a chance that he could if the truce isn’t restraining his abilities to do it, and it’s daunting of what he could do to this home planet. He has all the state of the art technology that no human ever has achieved of creating. He can easily bend the word to his knees, and probably incinerate it quite instantly that no one would’ve noticed. Because, after all, he is an Elite Invader of one of the best Empire in the galaxy.

The thought left him dreading if Zim wouldn’t change his mind.

On the other hand, he has Skool night, and he's pretty much drained after all of this. His body was already slumping against the wooden flat board of the bed, eyes were getting droopy, and his brain was having problems of keeping it turning. 

He eyed at Zim, who nodded from his short response and prepared the window above his bed click open, sliding it upward. Dib can feel the windy blow from the outside, sending literal shivers down his spine. The snow must be getting thicker by now, so Dib won’t have to fret about Zim landing roughly on the ground if he gets an accident. 

His friend was ready to jump out. 

That until Dib had popped up a question to the alien. 

"Wait, uh-Zim? Quick question?" The boy sheepishly and apologetically smiles when Zim wheels his head to the side, sending him a cold sideways glare. He soon mutters Irken curses, and in defeat, plops down his bed, "Ask it now, stupid human." 

Deciding on not making a petty insult, he asked what was on his mind, "How long will it take for the repairs? Or maybe how long will the travel be?"

The Invader fixates his gaze to Dib fully, bluntly replying, "Six months."

It didn't register at his mind for a moment, preparing himself to hum in satisfaction until he did.

"Oh, okay… wait, what?!" His upper body straightened out, a clear shocked face glares at Zim. He was trying not to shout out loud with the household asleep, but his voice was tempting to explode at any moment.

Zim gave an annoyed grunt as he leans against the wall, repeating it, "It's only for Urth equivalent of six months, Dib."

"Six months in our time is _incredibly_ long, Zim,” Dib uttered, incredulously looking back at the Irken, who thinks six months isn't that long. Well, in some cases, what he’s saying is an exaggeration, but when it comes to saving his planet is a quick no-go.

It's not that he's ultimately concerned about Zim just leaving him alone. He knew the Irken would come back to finish his mission since he seems so dedicated on Earth's demise by many rantings before. It's the fact that how long would Dib be able to hold the other unidentified alien off its scheming. What if he messed it up on saving the Earth and Zim would still be in space, also realizing he failed his leaders at the failure of enslaving it?

Zim shrugs it off though, a sardonic smirk followed, "What's the matter, Dib-human? Zim thought you would be capable of handling an alien?"

The boy furrowed, sneering back, "You're not thinking right. For all we know, at any time of the day, that alien will be conquering the Earth in a span of six months. There are a lot of ‘what-ifs’ in here, Zim. Trusting only me to do your bidding, which could be fine for me since saving the Earth and all- but it wouldn’t be enough.”

Zim shot him a look, and Dib did the same, albeit it has a feeling of childish stubbornness. Their staredown broke for a couple of minutes when Zim flared a frustrated growl that Dib was certain it only reverberates in this room. “Fine! Zim will have to adjust the scheduling of my plans."

A small sigh of relief came out, resting his back on the side of the bed. “So is there a way to…? I don’t know-“

“Boost up the ignitions on the Voot?” Zim interrupted.

Dib halts, then shortly nods, an anticipated expression put upon his face. The alien, for a while of his silent thoughts, concluded with a displeased huff.

“There is, but those parts are stored off the remains of the IGE. AND-“ A short pause of narrowing his light crimson eyes had Dib close his mouth from questioning. “ _And_ , by which Zim means, are the parts from any other species’ properties. Their tech, weapon, and armory, and anything else of use for the Voot.”

“How are we gonna do it?” Dib meekly asks, avoiding for Zim to keep glaring at him every time he just wants to ask. 

“Simple, I just have to drill underground to find them.”

“And this wouldn’t go bad because...?” Dib may have… _concerns_ on Zim’s procedure without trying to shake the whole tectonic plate that could cause a massive earthquake.

The Irken scoffs of the boy’s uncertainty, “The drill would make a straight line down the underground. It’s not gonna eradicate your ugly weakling of a planet.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, that works,” Dib trailed it off, still cautious about Zim's commonly destructive ideas. It did not justice, but he's willing to let him do it, not before a warning, “Just… don’t kill anyone, please.” 

“Sure, sure, Zim’s not in the mood for killing, yet,” He seems unbothered to leave it off, but his face was malicious. Dib had to squint in suspicion and annoyance 

“ _Zim_ , the truce-“ 

“Zim knows, Dib-stink. I was just -uh- joking. Zim was just joking.” 

Dib slowly softened his features, later on, half-smiling in some sort of pity, “You need practice on the joking part, you suck at it when you have a notorious personality.” 

The alien was quiet, not making any self-centered remarks towards it. He just stared at him pensively, before morphing back into apathetically hissing and averting away, finally jumping off the window.

Dib stays in his position, thinking deeply.

For a few more minutes, he had to shake it off. Thinking about Zim’s change of heart is gonna be hard when he’s infatuated on accomplishing the destruction of Earth. He might as well concentrate on the one they’re gonna team up against.

Regarding the need for energy tomorrow, he climbed up the ladder to his bed, though with struggle now that his energy was spent on his breakdown. He first shut the window from the freezing winter that’s gonna fill up the whole town and went back to lay down.

He didn’t turn the lights off, the paranoia was immediately kicking in when he remembered he was all alone, and the knowledge that some unknown alien is watching outside his enclosed window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to keep Dib and his father distant but trying to progress their relationship better. It's not much, but it's a start.
> 
> And one thing, I've changed Zim's blood color from the first story since it was clarified by Jhonen that he has pink instead of green. So, yeah, I just wanna put in here in case someone's confused about it. Sorry about that.


	4. A New Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Membrane siblings, an alien, and a robot dog go on shopping.

His paranoia is giving him quite a boring show when he had the insufferable hours of frantically scanning his every surrounding, unable to even blink awhile, because if he did, someone might crawl up to him without noticing.

In the morning, he already has his head slammed on the dining table, even incapable of getting the spoon in front of him. His Dad, in a real body and not on a television screen, scolds him from the opposite side of the table, “Son, have you forgotten the pills again?”

The son’s reply groans in the table, exhaustion, inadequate brainpower, and lacking fuel for his body are worsening. 

“We can permit you to go absent for the day. I can tell your adviser-“ The professor recommended too tenderly, it was freaking Dib out. Since when had his father cared about his health on Skool days? Rarely, that's for sure.

“Wait, no!” He shot his head straight, eyes at his father with alarm, since Zim is still going for Skool, he wants to be there in case he starts rioting. “I still want to be present for Skool. I’m fine.” His voice and slacked body made it seem unconvincing to say he’s ‘fine’. It’s why his father displayed a silent stare of concern while Dib was trying to straighten up his posture, and brought out a spoon and slowly chewed on his breakfast. It tasted mundane, nothing new to really cheer upon.

He can noticeably spot his sister walking by the doorway to the dining area. She was already dressed up for Skool. Her wine-red scarf wrapped around her neck. A clad of a jade sweatshirt that has a logo of a gaming controller and her amethyst winter jacket over it. Alongside her short skirt that now has black leggings, and her usual deep blue boots.

She climbed up on her chair, nonchalantly gulping down her own meal. By the time he swallowed up his churned crunchy cereal with an uninviting stomach, Gaz gazed at him with her usual grumpy face, midway done at hers.

“You look like shit,” She plainly commented. 

“Gaz! No bad words,” Membrane reprimanded, sounding a little horrified. She shrugged him off and gone back to eating her cereal.

Dib wanted to ask what ‘shit’ is but decided against it. He’ll have to use his voice for Skool if Ms. Bitters ever picks him to explain something not really trivial, but needed his left half of the brain to function. Besides, if it is a bad word, he wouldn’t want to have any qualms about it for the sake of not getting scolded too. It must’ve come from the people who she calls “Gamers”. Some of those teenagers are a bad influence on her, but he can’t honestly stop her from hanging out with them, considering she habitually plays online video games. And he doesn’t really need to know what it is. It just weirds him out that Gaz is a year younger than him and knows vulgar words that were supposed to be for adults. And here Dib is being an idiot older brother, unknown to her sister’s bad lifestyle with her age of seven. He doesn’t blame her, though, since he also had a bad obsession with the paranormal.

The attention shifts into something else, Membrane creased his brows at Dib, indicating he was either studying his appearance or the uncertainty on letting him go.

“Are you certain you are alright to go to Skool today, son? You look…”

“Yep,” Dib cut him off curtly, but he did not want more of the conversation. He knew the professor was looking at his untidy appearance. Thanks to having a mirror, he had seen his hair still unkempt, pajamas rumpled from the tossing and turning, and his bags under his eyes looked even worse than last time, some might assume this was make-up and working through a gothic phase.

Dad was hesitating on putting the topic to rest, but Dib assured him again with a more sincere attitude. He gave a hum of unsure yet accepting satisfaction, just in time for sudden call ringing from Membrane’s goggles, seeing the thick-rimmed glasses was faintly vibrating and lighting up the lenses like a lightbulb. 

“Oh! It’s the supervisors again. Go along, my children, the bus doesn’t have the patience for late pupils,” He jovially encouraged, leaving his half-full and lukewarm coffee on the table as he zooms out the dining room. 

Dib, as a nosy and curious child he is, listened for the formal talk between the adults, but became disinterested when it was all about the reconstruction on the Membrane Labs. 

He resumed eating, albeit with extreme indolence. He was lightly piqued to survey the whole room, a good distraction for preventing to face the soggy cereal. Gaz was sending him inquisitive glances along the way, which Dib did not bother for getting a lecture about his eating habits. It was getting tedious and violating.

He noted that there are two jars on the counter, one was quarterly eaten and the other was hardly emptied.

From what happened last night, Zim ate one cookie.

_Why didn’t he steal_ _them_ _all?_

The chatters in the living room were getting louder, their father aggressively negotiating, gradually getting ticked off by every passing sentence. 

Until they saw Membrane on the doorway of the dining room, looking outraged yet tremendously tired. 

Dib feels for him, but in a worse conditioned way than overly stressed about management/ adult issues. Who knows, maybe being an adult is harder than being a sleep-deprived and paranoid kid. Not to mention, a traumatized one too. 

The father ran his fingers through his hair, heavily puffed out in exasperation, and announced to his children, “Gaz, I’m very sorry, but Dib will have to take you down the mall.” 

Dib lifts his head up in an agitated surprise. Gaz just shrugged at him again, consuming a morsel of her cereal. 

“What?” Dib spoke up with a small pout, ready to complain. Bonding time with his sister to the mall is scary when he doesn’t follow her guidelines of not trying to mess with her and the store they were going to go to. He learned it not too long ago by getting himself lost in the establishment and earned a bruise when she finally found him.

“What about the ‘Not going anywhere’ policy?” 

“I have just the right solution for that!” Dad chirped, rushing to his basement, hearing the clanks and clangs of the metals below. 

A few minutes later, Membrane retrieved something from his hand. A pair of some sort of high tech watches. They were thick and everything is made of steel. One of them is painted with stark aquamarine while other has lilac, making them look shiny. The bottom of the large wristwatches has darker versions coated on them, giving some sort of effort with the designing. It was then he also recognizes that the colors are the siblings' preferences. 

“These, children, are Membracelets. For the day of Peace Day!” 

“Peace Day? Isn’t that for the next year?” His father had prattled on about the first Peace Day for an extensive amount of time spending their family dinner in Bloaty’s. Then he was recently granted to take it internationally for the future years. To which the introductory of this annual event would be next year on the first day of August. 

Dad laughed boomingly, “Why of course! But these are just prototypes. I’m giving you two of these spectacular inventions, specifically fitting for the both of you and for the sake of safety.” He stepped over to Gaz, gesturing gently to lend her right wrist. She didn’t protest on the request and locked the purple Membracelet onto her. 

It was Dib’s turn for the Membracelet, striding past the other side of the table. 

Dib observed his new piece of tech as it was secured on his wrist, both skeptic and somewhat fascinated. “What does it do?” 

“Well, these aren’t normal Membracelets like I was supposed to invent. These two are specially designed for you, my children.” He flicked the top of Dib’s bracelet, opening it to reveal a simple couple of buttons, pointing to a small red one. “This is for emergencies when you get lost or injured. It’ll alert me instantly. And the other is for the need of calling to each other if you separate.” 

“We can separate?” Dib asked, eagerly perking up. That vanished when Membrane chuckled and shook his head. “You can in Skool, it’s already programmed to not include it. But not until for a few more days, Dib. For now, you two would need to accompany each other at the mall. I implemented more uses in these devices, and they can be removed after your full recovery if you so desire. You two will simply have to get along and do not, under any circumstances, separate. It will trigger a small warning if you do, and should it stays, it will alarm me as soon as possible. Understood?” He says in a very authoritative and fatherly tone. 

“Oh,” To the boy’s dismay, he did not argue to it and nodded despondently. It would make sense. Dib and Gaz are basically below their preteen stages, too young for being independent on the roadways. And since Dad is usually busy, Membracelets are the only babysitters for now. Apart from the long-known fact they can handle being alone themselves and these would be deemed useless, the siblings let the bracelets stick for their whole day, one still having grudges as to why he even needs it and the younger one is most likely chill about it. 

With Membrane’s clap, he bids his children a cheerful farewell, exiting out of the house. 

* * *

This whole cafeteria is always noisy, if not, even nosier with more groups of children entering the room. Dib wasn't complaining about it, since all of the students of the Skool would be here to eat and chat freely from the chains of their assigned classrooms (Especially, Ms. Bitters’ classroom) for a short lunch break. Some children laugh in their conversations about jokes on each other, others would try and pester the other party, and the least one percent of the students would be Dib and Gaz, all alone in their table.

That’s the good thing because Dib gets to have his own rest, head down the table, and refused to even bite down his expired Skool food, which is a bowl of… _something_ greenly and moldy. Dib was baffled by how can the Skool chefs get away with food poisoning children.

There’s something great about being sleepy in the daylight. He can avoid eating, get permitted to get out of class since he looked pretty sick at times (Even though, it was just the lack of sleep), and he can make a false sense of pity against Dad’s vulnerable parental decision to make his children happy.

However, he’s absolutely sure that the cons weigh better than pros. 

The heavy aching on the back of his head is tremendously hurting him. It was pounding badly. He had to shift the position of his arms and head to get the comfortability he needs. His eyes are blurring and slightly burning every once in a while, Dib had to take off the glasses and rub his eyes to have clarity. His constant yawning is getting annoying, and his coherent voice is out of order, groaning and whining were the only sounds he can make for now, until the lunch break will end. His whole body felt like it’s been lifting a boulder every movement. He wants his ears to be cut off by the loud gossiping and the slobbish chewing of their food. The only thing that’s going good for him is his stable breathing. 

“Dib-human!” 

The said nickname emitted a loud grunt of irritation, with another set of pain from the ears to his head, vibrating inwardly from the received noise. He had forgotten that he wanted to go to Skool because of Zim, but now he was starting to regret his choices. 

“Dib, get your massive head up and listen. Zim has a change of plans!” A weight dropped to his seat beside him, but Dib didn’t react, too busy having a shut-eye. 

Someone grabbed his cowlick, then he yelped in alarm as his hair was pulled up, forcing him to sit upright, though a little sloppy that he almost falls backward. He whined furiously, face scrunching up from the blinding lights and the dizziness growing for the worse.

“Wake up, Dib-worm! After I improve my glorious Voot Cruiser, we can fly away and repair my PAK damages. And then, I will exterminate that imposter of a conqueror, AND THE URTH IS MINE!” Zim cackled evilly, and very loudly. Dib had to open his eyes a little to give him a glare with a silent message of “Everybody can hear you, dimwit” and looked around blearily to show the mass of students quietened and heads turn to their table.

Dib swats Zim’s hand away from his hair, thinking on wearing his abnormally large and silvery scarf back to his neck (Dad says he needs to put in this often, for health reasons). Apparently, wearing winter clothing isn’t that bad. A bright blue sweater decorated with mini cartoonish ghosts, a kid-sized cyan jacket to layer the sweater just for the 10 degrees outside the Skool, along with his typical black pants and red boots.

He gazes to where the poorly disguised alien stopped laughing from the obvious realization that he caught the attention of many. He watches him play out as Zim steals his bowl of gloopy food. The alien drank it all up, Dib cringing from what it might taste like (Definitely not edible) and that Irkens are not tolerable to polluted liquid. Like Dib predicted, Zim spun away from the table and spat the contents out, spilling them onto the floor.

He quickly regained his composure and announced at the children with a fake grin, “Zim is NORMAL! A very normal human boy!” 

Out of all the silent crowd, Dib had the small liveliness to laugh at Zim practically making fun of himself, who later sent a sideways glare. 

After the people went back to their ordinary chattering, Dib looked to a fuming Zim with a snarky grin, “You should scream for more. It’s entertaining.” 

Zim sneers, “Laugh all you want, Dib, maybe I won’t let you in my Voot and oh, I don’t know, fly away in space.” Dib, gaining little specks of newfound energy from the information, gawks at the alien in slight contempt. “I thought I would be the one guarding Earth.” 

“As I have said before-“ He emphasizes. “Zim had a change of plans. From now on, you will join me on traveling back on Irk to get my PAK fixed.” 

“B-But, why?” 

The Irken plucked out a thin paper and slammed it onto the table beside the tray, identifying as the reading from last night. He pointed at the grey dot, which from the other side of the table, Gaz piqued her interest at it (Dib forgot she was there, but didn’t mind for her to know what she missed on.) 

“Thing is, foolish smeet, that alien isn’t just spying in your house.” He dragged his one claw straightly to that one line of the outlined box. “It was spying outside your room.” 

Dib freezes, fixated on Zim’s statement. 

All of that paranoia of something rustling on the leaves, the branch creaking, and the unmistakable tiny glass knocks on his window, aside from, what he’d inspected several times, there wasn’t _anyone_ on the window. 

The boy was now trembling slightly, the gears on his head were smoking from overworking his thoughts again, “Why me?” There is a clear distinction that the one watching him may be _him_ -

He flinched when someone held down his shoulders, easing up that it was only Zim.

“Cease your shaking, Dib-stink. The possibility of that Vortian being alive is slim, considering Zim saw his ugly corpse,” Zim reassures (kind of scolding but sounded reassuring). 

The knowledge of that either comforts him, or scares him. Because if it isn’t _him_ , then it might be the aliens who escaped from the Labs. The “Incomplete status”. 

Or there is a hunch that some of the “Complete status” aliens are alive. They still have their mind-controlling disks on their heads and would function to kill Dib again. 

“If that alien is coming after you, then maybe the best option to bring you with me out of this miserable Urth,” Zim stated, releasing his sharp claws from his shoulders that actually but slightly bruised his skin. 

“How long, exactly?” Gaz queried, her usual glower stares at the alien. 

Zim gulped, trying to keep his confidence in line, still afraid by his sister, “The most sooner time it'll take will be in six Urth days on the overall of departure and flying back.” 

“Wait, we’re going to take six-?!” 

“Sounds cool.” She ushered her look to her brother with her stern gaze, “I’m not about to deal with your whining in your sleep, Dib.” 

Dib cowered for a second before retorting back in concern for his freedom, “Don’t you think Dad won’t notice?” 

“He won’t,” She persuades, sipping her juice box. “Dad will let you go in a few more days, remember? Pretty sure it’s gonna be the exact time for you two to leave.” 

"But what about how many days I'll be gone?"

"Tell him you're gonna have a sleepover for a week with a new transfer student called Zak," She pointed to Zim, who sent her a confused glance. "Zim is not a Zak."

She deadpanned at him, as if it was already the obvious, "It's a disguised name, idiot. Dad knows your name, doesn't he?"

"Well, he had read my PAK information-"

"Then there you go." Leaving Zim to mutter a small objection, his sister went back on Dib's problem, "Anyways, just hang-out with Zim in our house for, like, few days. Dad'll get used to him. He'll allow you to have a sleepover with him."

He wanted to retaliate, but there wasn't anything to say bad about it. It gives him more benefits than one. Zim will have to gather stuff from IGE and assemble for the Voot. The development would take them a couple of days if they’re fast enough. Meanwhile, he can help Zim in changing his decision on his conquest by what friends typically do when they hang. He'll have to search up what activities they can roll with.

He didn’t quite remember much of the conversation earlier at breakfast, but if this is true, he’s certain he’s going to be thrilled yet again and that’s riding into an alien spaceship to another planet. 

Shaking the excitement off, he realized on what Zim probably implied at his statement is, and he opted himself it would be fun to tease him about it. “ So-uh, Zim. You want… _me_? To ride on your ship? So you could protect me? Aww, that's sweet,” A lopsided quirk of his lips escaped and Zim sent him a disgusted reaction, face scrunching up in annoyance too since it was stated before he doesn't like questions being repeated. “No, you bag of meat filth! If that alien spied specifically on you, flying you away from Urth meant it’ll follow you. Then the conquest for this planet’s demolition is MINE to rule.” 

“You’re gonna throw me off the airlock or something like that?” Dib lifts a brow, deflating his giddy expression yet instilled a small playful smile. 

“Ehh, maybe most likely,” Zim shrugs, though it sounded like he wasn’t serious about it, so Dib relaxes. 

Plus, his plan may be not a bad idea. If that unnamed alien is truly following him, then he could draw it away from his homeworld. They can capture it, and Zim would just save him in the last second. And this may be a risk, considering Zim might not save him and that alien would get to him first, but he puts this small glimmer of trust for both of them. 

“Alright,” He agreed, giving him more of a genuine smile to take his decision seriously. “If you do throw me off the airlock, though. I’ll pull you with me too.” 

“You can pitifully try,” He challenges. 

“I intend to.” 

They exchanged their fair share of harmless glares, until Gaz had to intervene with her commonly harsh comment, “By the way, your disguise is still plain-looking.”

“My uniform is NOT plain-looking. It’s extravagantly wonderful!” He domineered.

Dib involuntarily yawns before he gladly joins in with his sister’s side, “Uh, yeah you do. You need a change of disguise if you’re going to stay here for a while before you destroy Earth.”

“Zim doesn’t need new disguises! This is perfectly fine.”

“If Dad ever sees you, don’t come to me in bruises and blaster shots,” Dib insists, waiting for the next excuse to come.

Zim pauses halfway through speaking again, nothing to really defend. Dad isn’t too keen on being oblivious to everything ever since Dib had accidentally let some aliens escape from his facility. Zim has to be careful with his father around now that he will have to live in his home for days.

Hence, he just left it off and pouted like a child on timeout, earning a couple of snickers from Dib and Gaz alike. He squints at them with a flushed face of anger, “And what do you propose of a solution?” 

“Buy clothes from the mall, duh,” Gaz replies flatly, eating her food. Zim scoffs her off, “Fine. Let’s make this quick. I have an underground drilling tonight.” 

* * *

“Hey, Dib-meat! We’re here.” 

Before Dib could react, he felt someone bump him by the side, and since his unlucky body's system was tempting to shut down, a quick whiplash of the freezing wind when he stumbled down, then his face fell flat onto the ground. It was soft and somewhat wet. This prompted him to open his eyes more. 

He whined as he rose up from his feet, recognizing the clumps of something on his face and clothes were the snow and dirt. His scarf did not help him to prevent his face from getting into the snow. He hears Zim’s devious and ear-splitting cackles from behind, all the while Dib brushes the snow off of himself, adjusts his glasses, and pulls a nasty scowl as he makes his way to Zim’s direction. 

“What was that for?” Dib angrily exclaims, rubbing his head from the soft yet still an impact. 

The alien sniggered with a conceited smile, “It’s hilarious how you can be pushed off so easily. Such a fragile tiny child.”

Dib was urging to stop himself from having a physical brawl against him, only sending him a tired yet a very resentful look.

“Such a dookie,” Dib mutters.

“What did you call me, Dib-stink?! A dookie?!” His expression changed 180 from smiling to a repulsed glare.

“Yeah, you gonna cry?” Dib taunts, a peeved snigger also forming. He’s not afraid of giving a little verbal fight, he’d done these quarreling many times by now.

“I will disintegrate you, parts by parts. No one calls me DOOKIE!”

“Well, I can. And you can’t stop me.” 

“Oh? I could just kill you right on spot.” 

“You would have to get to me first,” Dib crouched down as he snatches a wad of snow, which he regretted it from the bitter cold struck his skin like a spark of electricity. As fast as his noodle arms could, he threw the snowball right onto Zim’s face.

It resulted in a screaming Zim and Gir (The robot must've been with them after dismissal, from what he can remember.) squeezing a fire hydrant and to quote him squeaking “I’ll protect U, red monkey! I’ll PROTECT U!!” while Dib howled in laughter for Zim tasted his own medicine. 

“Vile, vile solidified acidic stinking liquid from the sky! GIR, get this off me!” 

“Okay!” Gir frisked happily to Zim, only to kick the lump of snow near Zim’s position weakly that it was thrown centimeters away. “I DID IT!” 

Dib laughed even more as Zim looked like he was melting the snow from his angered face. 

“No, GIR! MY FACE!” 

“Ooooh.” 

“Are you gonna keep going with this or am I gonna have to give you all a black eye?” Gaz twitches in pent up anger, scoffing in satisfaction when Zim stiffened, finally and harshly getting rid of the snow clumps off his face. Dib stifled his small snickering, strapping his backpack tight when it loosened. Zim’s face was still steaming, mild burns from the sides but Dib didn’t linger on worrying about it because Zim can fairly handle it. 

“Thought so. Come on." The four (Zim had to scold and to put on a leash on Gir and dragged him forwards, along with his giggles of being dragged too) trekked their pathway to the mall, which is now nearby. 

For the time being, the boy racked his brain over what happened earlier. He noticed he was out of Skool. They were near a street close to the mall, seeing the building just from a mile away. Luckily, Zim did not push him off to where their pathway is, which is just the concrete asphalt without any puddles of snow that could've given him a harsh splat on the face. He can already conjure up a scene if it did, wincing inwardly because falling off a solid floor isn’t fun to experience, particularly if it was the head that was hit first. 

He can feel the icy breeze hitting on his skin, snowflakes showering from the road to the grass. Gaz is right ahead of Zim and Dib, walking briskly, but not going any further since the siblings know they would get an alarm from their Membracelets. Gir is there too, and he quite remembered after they left the Skool grounds, Zim disguised the robot as a sewn costume of a green dog. He probably didn’t question the quality, but no one seems to bother, so he let it go. 

The memories during the lessons and dismissal were hazy, Ms. Bitters might’ve been mad about his sleeping habits in Skool, but he wasn’t dead yet. He could count this as one of the rare days of good luck since Zim hasn’t gone the temptation to kill every person he meets on the streets, Gaz is neutral-faced and not punching him in the face, and Gir is tame (Not too tame, he’s giggling like a maniac as always. He hopes no one thinks this is unusual). 

What he noticed differently, was that he doesn’t have his blue jacket, having only his cartoonish ghost-themed sweater. It was the reason why he feels colder than he imagined winter to be like always. 

And then there he spots his jacket, that was tied up on Zim's neck to cover the top of his head. 

That one specific memory stood out as he thought back throughout their long walk to the mall. Zim was getting sizzled by the snowflakes falling, and he decided to give his jacket to cover on his head. It didn’t surprise him that he had to make an argument just to put it on his head, and luckily the stubborn alien finally and reluctantly accepted the offer.

Dib didn’t ask him to take off the jacket because he needs it more than his body temperature. They still need to give him a dress-up, and Dib will be sure that they should choose jackets or hoodies.

At the moment they reached upon the entrance, a guard opened up the entrance door for them, giving questionable glances because, of course, they’re basically elementary pupils that are below 5th grade (Well, except for Zim that could be considered a twelve-year-old). But he did not dwell into it as the four children already passed him to the mall lobby. Dib took a peek back at the guard, and saw he was later unbothered by them. 

Then, Dib immediately hears all the vast amounts of noises from the lowest adult chatters to the highest shrill whinings of children. The people almost crammed the whole lobby, and he means the most gigantic area in this mall. Exploring the hallways of this place is gonna be hard for Dib to keep up, his headache was throbbing hard that he may be thinking it was visibly beating back and forth like a swollen head.

Absentmindedly, he clenched on the chest for a second, removing it after he knew no one was near him besides Zim and Gaz. 

From his perspective, the mall looked exceedingly large. The tall adults packing the place made them like little ants, but they’re more minuscule than them. The ceiling was far too high and the floors levels above them were filling the space for the whole colossal-looking mansion called a shopping mall. 

Somehow, this made Dib shudder. Being small and belittling him about it is one thing he can deal with. But facing the actuality that he _is_ tinier than nearly everyone in this place kind of scares of him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s just an instinct for small children to feel this way. 

Therefore, he instinctively and discreetly stepped closer to Zim’s side, making sure they have the distance to not touch each other, not after what happened earlier. Although, it did little help for his perturbed situation on everyone around him, paranoia kicking in. 

Zim looked more annoyed than last time, the antennae inside the wig were shifting in irritation from the noises. Since Gaz was used to coming into this place, it’s no wonder she isn’t affected as much as he and Zim are. Gir was filled with wonder, also unaffected like Gaz, wanting to walk farther by himself, but Zim has a leash on him, hindering his sidekick's freedom. 

Before he could comment on it, Zim untied the jacket from his neck and gave it to the boy beside him, who mumble a small ‘thanks’ and wore it afterward. 

“Where is this clothing storage?! I want to get out of here this instance! These tall small-minded humans are getting on my spindly nerves!” Zim screeched, although it was drowned by a lot of other superior voices of the people. Gaz simply ignored Zim’s complaint and moved on through the denizens. Zim followed with a grumpy remark that they can’t hear from the loud clamor surrounding them. Dib still stays on Zim’s side, quieter than ever, looking critically at everyone.

Good thing its space wasn’t too much of a jam to get through halls of the place, because the last time Dib experienced going to a mall was the day of Black Friday. It was terrifying how a horde of taller individuals can push him aside and crush your spacing, making it hard to find oxygen from a ton of people getting them from above. 

Someday, he would be taller than them. 

There were times that they had to wiggle their way out of a tight situation. But the siblings wouldn’t need squirm away from the small horde when Zim was there. 

“STUPID CRETINS, GET OUT OF MY WAY!” Zim shouts at a bunch of teenagers blocking the hallway. There were sneers and jabs to the little Irken, but halted when Gaz peered at them her trademark glare. They dispersed quickly, acting like they were entranced on their phones.

And there are disruptions that some people had to point it out loud. 

“Mommy! Isn’t that Dib who killed Membrane Labs?” A younger boy claims from Dib’s side, where he and the mother were just sitting on a mall bench. Dib pulled up his hood in shame when he unintentionally eavesdropped the mother’s comment, “Hush, honey. We don’t want him giving the idea of burning the mall too.” Then the mother laughed as a ruse to get the child join in too, like it was a joke to begin with.

Dib did not ever look back into them, his vision only settled at the floor and despondently trailed his footsteps to Gaz’s, crestfallen. Even after those couple of weeks, people were still biased about him at fault. He thought if he could just ignore them, maybe he won't be impacted by their criticism. And even after all these years, he still feels for what everyone thinks about him. Such a coward he is. He tried not to notice Gaz has her posture hardened, walking much briskly than last time after the mother and child conversation. Zim jabbed at him from the attention of the two strangers seconds ago, “Hah, they think it’s your fault! Hilarious, because it's true!” 

Zim gives off another mocking chortle, Dib hides his hands on the pockets, closing more into his warm, fuzzy jacket that offers him personal space. 

When the laughter subsided from the alien's mouth, one hand was stripped away from the pockets and his lower arm had been seized by Zim’s hand, forcibly pushing him to walk forward. “You walk too slow, impudent child. Cease your moping.” 

The alien complained at his slow pace all the way to their destination and Dib followed without any much of compliance that he would try what Zim kept on chastising him about.

Internally, he was glad the alien kept on hold on his arm for the whole saunter to the retail store. In a weird way, it radiates a sense of security that someone is with him and no one would try and kidnap him on spot. 

At the time they arrived at the clothes shop, Dib soon comes into his mind of how dizzy he was, probably have been overwhelmed and unsettled that so many adults are everywhere and the fact he carried on his tired yet paranoid eyes to scan at every person he sees. 

He nearly collapsed to the ground, but instead, he has the decency to leaned against the wall in between two small stores than laying on the floor. Without any more delay, the back of his head rested upon the cold surface of the smooth and dirty pavement, eyes closed without hesitation. The boy sighs in exhaustion, slumping down to sit down without any mind of shifting into more of a comfortable position. The urge to lay down on the floor is tempting, but he didn’t push through it. He took one small peek to see Gaz didn’t take his condition seriously and walks further inside the store, probably knowing he doesn’t need anyone to ask if he’s fine (Another point for respect). Zim just made a strange glance to him, then focused on his robot servant from running away. 

He did not see himself blinking slowly to lull himself to sleep, until Zim suddenly was close to him.

“Hey, stinkbrain,” Zim called, crouching down to his level. Dib had his heavy eyes affixed on him, a non-committal sound emitted from his enclosed mouth. 

Zim’s expression is unreadable, but he evoked in somehow, a balanced soft and hard manner, “Keep walking, idiot. Zim has to drill tonight and wants this done.” 

“… Yeah okay.” 

* * *

“Dib-meat!” 

“Wha-huh?” Dib mumbles, his eyes immediately stumbling upon a bright light above. He knits his eyelids and blinked several times to put his vision into focus. 

There, around with several garment racks hung of assorted jackets and hoodies, was Zim standing in front of him, his hands on his hips, tapping his one boot, and head tipped to the side. He greatly resembles like an angry parent, or a spoilt child due to the short stature. 

“What did I say about sleeping?! Zim commands you to don’t sleep!” Zim loudly rebukes, which made Dib flush in embarrassment. The customers and workers around flashed annoyed yet perplexed glances on the two. Dib doesn’t want to know what they think of them right now, because Zim was still berating his accidental nap.

“Dib-!” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll get up,” Dib stands up, with an ill-tempered attitude because Zim had to ruin his shut-eye even though he could just stay here and sit in this public small bench that was placed on the free wall, away from the garment racks. 

However, he remembered he has a Membracelet. 

Zim rolled his plastic purple eyes and goes back to Gaz, who was gazing at various hoodies just beside to where Dib slept. Gir is also with him, too, snoring on the tiled floor. Dib carefully picks up the disguised robot, checking if he wakes him up by doing this. When he ensures he was still asleep, he traipsed to Gaz and Zim's side, taking a look at what they’re picking on while making it certain he wasn’t subconsciously sleeping. 

His younger sister pulls out an article of clothing from the rack, revealing a unique kind of hoodie. It’s a short-sleeved, grape-dyed one. It was like Gaz’s jacket, but a darker color of purple. The kangaroo pocket of it was a lighter version of it. The hems and the hood was a pigment of magenta, just like Zim’s eye. 

Zim scrutinizes the attire, merely touching its surface before declaring, “YES! This is great! Not as greater than my uniform, but yes, it’s good enough.” 

Gaz left it at that, dropping the garment to their basket. As if it was automatic, Zim takes the handle of the basket and they all ambled off the area. Dib did not recall Zim agreed on carrying the basket himself, and he was sure he was supposed to be the one holding it. Though, he didn't try to make a remark, thankful that he doesn't need to carry both things.

“Are we done here? Are we ready to put it in the item checker and monies receiver?” Zim impatiently asked. Dib guessed the ‘monies receiver’ he meant was the cashier.

“Nope, we have one left to buy,” Gaz replied, already walking out from the aisle.

“Hold up.” Dib catches up to Gaz, aware that he was still carrying a sleeping Gir and was careful about running, “Why? Can’t we just find a long-sleeved hoodie instead?” 

“Zim says make it elegant. I’m making it fashionable,” Gaz simply explains, walking over to the next aisle, which is labeled with many different brands of preteen-sized shirts. 

“Since when did Zim say that?” 

“Since you fell asleep during his rant about how ‘sophisticated’ his uniform is and ‘no one’ can beat its beauty.” 

He wanted to chuckle from Zim’s defense on his attire and reply in disagreement on sleeping during a conversation, but he wondered if she was right. He thought he had recollected the memories from earlier. They went into the store, Zim having to ramble the ugly designs of the clothes that caused some sales ladies to raise a brow at him. They arrived to where the jackets and hoodies are, letting Dib relax on a conveniently placed bench on the side. 

He must’ve slept throughout something Gaz and Zim have been arguing on rather than being half-awake. 

“Here we are.” 

Dib surveys the diversity of garment racks from ranging ordinary sweatshirts to decorated ones. Some were plain to branded logos of the children’s preferences (basically, most of them are Disney). After all, they are in the children’s section. 

But the most important of all, the area has accommodated a bench resting on the wall, just close to the sweatshirts rack. 

“Alright, you guys go find what you’re looking for. I’m gonna go to that bench,” He yawns, smiling that he can finally take a break after walking to section by section of the large retail clothing store. 

All was lost when someone yanks the collar of his jacket away from getting to the only haven for his enervated system. Dib whined bitterly that it was Zim laid ahold of his hood, “What?” 

“No, Zim will not allow you into sleeping and forgetting that you are not in your room.” He releases the grip on the fabric and Dib groans, “I promise I won’t sleep. Let me relax, okay? I haven’t exactly slept.” 

“That was because it was your choice to not take your sleeping process in the first place,” The Irken crosses his arms, deadpanning. Dib scowls at him, mood swings triggered. 

“It’s not easy when you’re having sleeping problems every night. Unlike your species, you can just go outside, play death and slavery.” Zim was about to say something about but Dib snapped with dripping sarcasm of nicety, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna sit down and wait.”

“Too late for that,” Gaz announced, and both heads wheeled to her, who clutches a malachite sweatshirt ( A little duller color than Zim’s skin), embellished with a black alien logo.

The alien hesitated to resume his conversation with Dib, who was downright tired of all this. Thus, he just left the boy, asking Gaz, “Eh, what’s with the black thingy?” 

“Not important. Just a logo,” Gaz drops the sweatshirt to the basket that Zim still clasps on. “Now, you and Dib get to the changing room. I’m not going to see you naked again.” 

The implication of ‘again’ disturbed him and to what the two might not tell him about it, but he isn’t going to wander too much as he just goes along what she orders them to. Staying in a public place while itching to desperately lay his body on something to rest is tiring. So, he tips his head to the side, a gesture for Zim to follow him, considering Gir is still on his hands. The Invader just grumbles about Dib being an idiot and trails along with him, his sister from behind.

Dib noted that the changing room is close to the cashier, so they can get this done in no time. 

The children entered the open room, viewing the series of empty stalls. 

“Go into one of these and just change your outfit,” Dib yawned, moving aside for Zim to let him inside to one of the stalls. 

They eyeballed at each other for a few seconds, one was pensive and the other is aggravated and drained, before the former walked out of their stares and closed the door to his stall. 

It did not take longer than he expected it would. The door to Zim’s changing stall banged as Zim _kicked_ the door to swing it open, getting Dib to flinch in surprise. There, the alien garbed the chosen sweatshirt inside the short-sleeved hoodie, posing dramatically with hands on his hips and a conceited smirk. 

“Well? How does the new look fit on Zim?” He anticipates. 

“Um-“ Dib stammered that Zim was straight up looking at him, who was awaiting too happily for his answer. “It’s a good look on you,” He presented him with a sympathetic thumbs up while struggling to keep Gir uphold, still unbelievably sleeping. 

“It’s about to get even more better!” Zim beamed, fiddled on his right wrist, with Dib in the background commenting about his grammar. Suddenly, the alien transforms into a tan skin, five-fingered that have black fingerless-gloved hands, a nose, a pair of ears, and a slate-grey backpack He may still have his raven hair, plastic clear lilac eyes, and his leggings and boots, but it didn’t look like it was an alien obviously disguised. 

He resembled a human. An actual disguise.

“Woah,” Dib slightly gasped, wonder-struck that he just witnessed an alien tech being used. A disguise that is actually convincing. Now that’s an achievement for someone who had a disguise so bad, it was difficult to believe it is a disguise at all.

“You are too gullibly impressed, Dib-stink. If you were about to ask how I managed to generate such an amazing disguise, I invented a wristwatch like all humans have, mainly for the use of more into your style.” He slips the sleeves of the sweatshirt and shows the pink normal-looking watch. A watch that doesn't have exaggerated designs or too bizarre on its size.

What Dib was confounded by is that he hadn't tried producing this months ago at the time of his arrival on Earth. 

“Why didn’t you use it back then?” 

“Er- Admittedly, I haven't been able to think of it as a useful innovation for the mission, because Zim’s previous disguise was already the greatest disguise no human has ever seen.”

“But no human has ever seen a green skin like that-”

“SILENCE, silence, putrid child, you are beneath me.” He balled his fist upward, dramatically looking at Dib, who has a poker face directed at him, “Okay... what about earlier? Why didn’t you use it?”

“Zim had to know if my invention would be rather fitting for this putrid human-made clothing custom. And it did... surprisingly,” He lazily excused. Dib guessed that he forgot to mention about the watch. He wanted to tell him off of that lie but that was dismissed by himself since Zim would only just lie and screech that Gir might wake up for it. 

“Not gonna lie, you look like a delinquent,” Gaz remarked, very casual if Dib has to say anything about Irken technology that was just demonstrated and introduced in front of them. 

“Was that a compliment?” Zim insinuates close to Dib’s ear. The boy carelessly shrugged in the same predicament, not knowing if Gaz does like the style. Well, she would have to. It was her selection of attire for him to wear. 

Whether Gaz heard it or not, she didn’t push for her to know, “Come on and undress, we’re still gonna need to pay for these. Then, it’s my turn to buy a Game Slave.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zim's change of disguise is permanent for the whole story. I've wanted to give him a new look for a long time ever since I wrote this fic. So, I dedicated this whole chapter to get Zim some clothes. Don't worry, the next chapter is going back to the plot.
> 
> Oh, btw, I kind of portrayed myself here where Gaz knew bad words before Dib does, because playing and watching online has some bad effects when older kids decided it would be fun to curse, thus influencing the younger to do the same. Dib wasn't around for the internet too long. And considering he just recently joined a network full of adults, it will take time for him to learn more than mild profanities.


	5. Digging Through A Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim goes back to IGE with a stubborn bratty human on his 'side'.

A hooded ‘human’ Zim travels the rough texture of human-constructed road in the wide pathetic city, filling its air of the rancid smoke from its factories and vehicles. A small number of the passerby mindlessly walk around the streets, cars were still active and moving, and the lights from the buildings and the shops were narrowly well lit, denoting that few of these humans would ever witness what he’s going to do, which isn’t that bad since he knew they are dumb. 

Most humans are. 

The Membrane Family, however, is a major problem for his conquest. 

His ocular implants vigilantly scanned at everything that may seek danger. Patrolling the area is an easy task when he has heat signatures locked on these citizens. The great thing about going out at nighttime was that lesser humans are awake. Needless to worry, he went to the next step, sneaking his half-gloved hand inside the hood. He pressed the communication device on his holographic human ear, which he could start notifying the boy watching on the small camera latched on the left side of his hoodie shirt. 

“Humans are getting significantly fewer. They must be on their sleeping processes,” Zim murmurs on the com, still keenly alert. 

After that, he added, “And so should you, Meat brain. I will not let you drool your filthy sal-why-ba on the dash of my Voot.”

Dib groaned in frustration, “Is it really the time for this, Zim?”

“Now would be a perfect time to do your fragile human needs which is sleep, _Dib_. But rather, you blather on joining this MAGNIFICENT plan of mine, in the middle of the night, just so you could keep tabs on me, The Mighty Zim? Utterly ridiculous! I don’t need someone keeping tabs. I can do this without your help!”

Zim can practically sense the Dib facepalming from the comms, “It’s not keeping tabs on you. It’s babysitting.”

“Zim is not a puny baby! And you are not even sitting on me!”

“Wh-What? No, that’s not what it even mea-“ Dib inhales audibly through the device, either suppressing a chuckle or an exasperated explanation. Aside from that, the air blew from the speakers irritated Zim’s hearing, involuntarily jerking one of his antennae. 

“I’m only doing this because I’m not allowed to go outside and the possibility you could wreak havoc into the city, in one night, without my surveillance. Oh, and also because you’ve given me some alien device that communicates through your computer, so that’s neat.” 

Zim objected, “Only because YOU keep pestering me to be a part of my fool-proof plan. Besides, that’s only for emergencies, and I won’t need emergencies anyways.” 

“Then why did you give it to me?” 

“To stop plaguing Zim with your feeble attempts of wanting to join my glorious mission, stupid stinky.”

The brat on the comm wasn’t talking for a while, before he told him, “If you can’t guess it right now, I’m sticking my tongue on you because you suck.”

“Well, I am too! It means you suck even worse than Zim’s!” He blows a raspberry, feeling the satisfaction when he does so, despite the Dib could not see it. This was a normal occurrence to keep annoying each other. This was more for a little harmless banter to entertain himself, keeping his pride intact just so he could talk foul words to disparage the loathsome brat for involving him to _aid_ for this mission. Sure, he may have needed the help of those smeets days ago to infiltrate his home, but not because he relies on them too much. They were allegedly the baits to lure the robots away from him getting the mainframe back to normal, not caring a single bit for their health. That was just an alliance, and it’s only happening once. Nothing more.

The Dib-sister had already quitted before he could tell her about entering IGE, but the Dib-worm insisted to join like a slimy and sticky worm attaching to his clean perfect skin. the image of it made Zim scrunch up.

At least he sent him an Irken Emergency that he won’t even need for. 

“Hey, where’s Gir?” The Dib mentioned out of the blue. 

At the reminder of his robot servant, he whipped his head to the back, searching for that SIR unit who could be just hugging something and mollycoddling it at the same time (Just, purely revolting) or banging his head to the walls of these buildings.

But, of all things, he found him playing on the dirt puddle, splashing like it was one of those humans at a pool. It was also soiling the dog costume, causing Zim to recoil in disgust. 

“GIR! Get out of the puddle of dirt this instant!” 

A high-pitched “YESSIR” instantly came and casually ambled to his side, to which Zim distanced himself from the robot because of the smell and the costume smeared with the dirt. He will have to take him to a rigorous bathing session for the umpteenth time. He will not like it one bit since he had an exhausting experience of taking GIR to a bath.

_Curse this dirt and this planet._

“You know, you could just call it mud, right? Or your world doesn’t have that kind?”

“We don’t have rain in Irk, stupid Dib. If we did, we’re supposed to be immune from this mucky water.” It wasn’t too hard to understand the human’s weather changing cycle. It’s sometimes random, starting from a sunny hot day to raining acidic droplets. It’s unnerving that he can't predict when’s gonna be the next hours of those kinds of bad and dull days that he can barely get out of his base. In addition to that is the results of those rains that create puddles to even worsen his stroll to Skool. And now, it’s holiday winter. The frozen droplets can shower whenever, can be hit with those ‘snowballs’ to burn his face (The Dib's snowball yesterday already proved that), and everywhere is consisted of the snow. It was there he concluded he hates Urth’s periodical weather and its long lengths of these kinds of seasons. 

“That’s interesting. You guys don’t have, like, seasons or climate change?” Dib-worm continues to entreat. It was nearly blowing Zim's fuse of patience.

“Argh- NO! How many times do I have to tell to your puny little brain that we don’t have-!” 

“Okay, okay, chill. I was just asking,” Dib grumbled lowly, grudging that he and his repetitive questions hadn’t gotten an answer. Zim curled his lips with the smugness that the brat wasn’t questioning him throughout the whole walk, most likely ashamed of his dense brain. 

There is always a churning feeling that he should’ve just answered it, but his ego is always the winner at every word he spouts.

Zim and GIR arrived at the place where they have been held captive. 

The demolished building was in shambles, debris and the hunks of concrete, wood, and iron altogether mounted on the whole site. There were only remnants of the human technologies of broken cables and metals. Some of what these people call ‘hydrow-leek ecskavators’ were unmoving, meaning no human workers would disrupt his mission. 

“Excellent,” Zim mutters out loud with a conceited grin. 

“Dib-thing? Are you active?” Zim called, letting the comm turn on. 

No one responded. 

He was about to silently whoop in delight that the Dib-thing is far asleep and no one would be able to distract him from accomplishing the mission all by himself, until GIR spoke out too noisily, “I’M ACTIVE, mastah!”

Then the SIR jumped himself to Zim’s head. And to which it smudged him with the mire. 

The Irken began shrieking as the dirty water blocked his eyes, “GIR! GET OFF ME!” All the while he struggles to unstick the dirty robot off his face. He thought the robot might’ve burned him already from the liquid he was being forcibly covered, but all he felt was the icky sensation of the ‘mud’, and that feeling is much worse than the burn. 

“What’s going on?! Zim?!” The Dib shouted in panic. 

His hopes of peaceful silence were saddeningly deflated, now not screaming bloody murder and just wrestling the grimy hands of his servant from his face. GIR seemed to be having fun doing this, which makes it more infuriating. 

“Hey, uh- Gir, can you do something for me?” Dib calls behind the shrilling laughter. And lucky enough, GIR stopped his tight grip on his face and _actually_ listened to the Dib-smeet. Zim got the opportunity to push the robot off and quickly scrub the filth off of him with cleansing chalk. He felt the snowflakes atop of him and noticed the hood was down, nothing to cover his head. He puts it back with an immediate panic, scared that he actually might sizzle from that than the mud. 

“Yesss, Mary?” GIR immediately stands up, awaiting for Dib’s request. Unbeknownst to him, is that he won’t be really able to hear the Dib at this range. Obviously, it can only be heard from his fake ears that transmit to his antenna and that’s it. 

“Uh- Zim, you might wanna-“ 

“Zim doesn’t need to recall it back to him, Dib-stink. He will forget the request overtime. Come on, GIR!” Zim flung the chalk elsewhere, and tramped to the nearest alley to the demolition site of Membrane Labs, with GIR skipping merrily, who as expected, completely forgetting the Dib’s question. 

They were tramping on the narrow, shaded, alleyway to its dead end, which can be seen not farther than a few meters away. That was when Zim turned to meet the robot following his steps that he might mindlessly bump into him. He held him by the forehead to prevent it from happening and commanded, “GIR! Fetch me my drilling pants!” 

The SIR zipped down the hood of the costume, and opened up the top of his head and fumbled to find it, leaving Zim to wait and Dib to be a total braindead smeet as he asks again, “Why does it name drilling pants?” 

“Because it’s drilling pants, Dib-idiot! You’re more stupider than I thought," He tsked, rolling his eyes away from the Dib-idiot mumbling complaints on his grammar, and instead, looking on the robot who finally caught the same looking pants he has, but it contains a button to activate. 

“HERE YA GO!” GIR hands over the pants to him. 

“Shut it, GIR. You’ll wake the humans,” He hisses as he snatches the pants, donning it to layer his normal ones. Zim went to the middle of the dead-end alleyway, pressing the button to transform his pants into a large Irken drill.

He can hear Dib whispering a “Woah” when he angled the camera down to view the drill.

“Impressed, Dib-stink?” He bragged, a complacent smirk showing his prideful taunts against the Dib. Although, this vanished because Dib had to be overly cautious of his tech. It’s reasonable, but it’s killing his joyful moment of someone being impressed with his creation. 

“Is it stable enough for the buildings not to be able to break down?” The Dib-stink inquired, a small fear layered in his voice. 

The Invader rolled his eyes and bluntly answered it, “This won’t inherently make an ‘Urthquake’, if that’s what you’re implying. This is one of the finest Irken technology. Now stop asking, this plan is perfectly flawless.” 

“What I’m trying to say is that don’t make any disasters. Who knows what you could do with a large drill,” The Dib retorted, practically shouting it with repressed frustration. 

Zim snorts derisively, “You’re the one to talk, Dib-meat. It was basically your fault who blew the whole building down, just because you HAD to interfere and ineptly slink into danger you cannot even comprehend.” 

“Hey! If it weren’t for me and Gaz, you would’ve died without your Pak. I lost many privileges because I was trying to save you.” 

“Well, you did a _pretty_ terrible job at saving me, didn't you? Had it not been for me, you would’ve been a burnt crisp human meat of spurting blood!” In all honesty, Zim wouldn't want to admit that this was half the truth. To a certain extent, without the siblings defeating shmillion of those robot-scientists, Zim would’ve been long dead at his long crawl in the vents to find the right opening where his PAK would be, which it would probably be infested with a lot of them inside the room if it weren't for the siblings' intrusion.

He did not take the statement back, though. The Dib was eerily quiet, and he’s not gonna waste time for the idiot to come back, proclaiming that the Elite Invader is wrong. That he was wrong about needing help. 

And oh, how wrong that human boy would be. He’ll prove it to him. Convince him that he _can_ stand by himself without him or his scary sister. He can become the mastermind in greater battles. He will be, when he can finally beat the boy and rule this planet without a doubt. 

For now, he actuates his machine, driving the drill into a rapid rotation to grind the ground, causing the dirt to be shoveled to the side to keep him going underground. GIR leaped up to his master’s head and sat there like it was just a normal (albeit, shaking) chair, while he grinds the land of his way. 

The operation took long enough for Zim to bring out the tablet to inspect where the metal radar is working, not caring for the raucous drilling that could possibly wake the whole neighborhood. It was shown that he is the blinking yellow dot moving downwards, which will reach the imaginary lines across the direction to the left, which the end of it has the red marking: the IGE. He’s still several meters below to get to the right level to go laterally. 

There wasn’t anyone quizzing him with thousands of Irken-cultured questions and life-threatening warnings. It was peaceful, apart from the drill’s rambunctious grinding, it was giving him the privacy he needs away from that snoopy child. 

The guts twisting on his squeedlyspooch was the one ruining his contentment. 

After the few mere minutes of drilling deeper, he got to the point to make the left tunnel, his whole body shifted to the angle of the imaginary lines said on the tablet. GIR had no balance to sit above his head, so he had to shuffle to the side of it and smear some more mud, which Zim wasn’t minding of except for the leftover dirt. What he’s more focused is piercing a hole through the metal radar on his way there.

He felt himself judder violently when the drill was trying to perforate the metal, immediately calling out the pants’ deactivation, “Drilling pants, shut off!” 

Zim observes the drill automatically cutting itself to halves, letting his normal pants and boots show from the inside. Hopping off the machine and GIR landing back to the ground, he picked up another cleansing chalk for emergencies, grudgingly rubbing off the muck, again. 

After that, he dropped off the cleansing chalk and walked to the metal wall beheld before him. The Irken pulled out a pen-sized laser, directly and fixedly aiming at the strong barrier. He then triggered the shot, the emission of crimson-hot thin line beaming to sear the solid material of the metal. He did not imagine the laser would be longer to penetrate into a shape of a crooked circle. Any Irken technologies can effortlessly take any Urthen materials, especially as any fragile things as their metal wall. 

The askew circle fell down unceremoniously and going forwards, he and GIR had to move away from the large steel wall from crushing them. 

It was then it revealed the insides of the underground lab. He stepped in the floors of where he had been for the months of horrifying experimentations. 

Zim shortly quivered from the memory of it. 

GIR trailed behind him, just ‘ooh’-ing in wonder like he hadn’t known the place before. He observed around the place as he trekked down the gloomy corridors. The place looked very much abandoned, not because of the metal walls, but some of the paths were blocked by hunks of dirt rocks, unable for it to blow it up for the risk of creating an Urthquake. 

He doesn’t know much about how rotting and sickening looks on some ancient Urth sites could be and as to how they managed to keep it stable underground, but if this was able to withstand against the huge pile of pieces and slabs of hard concrete and other objects up in here, then it wouldn’t harm to continue his hunt despite the visualization of being crushed by several feet under of the Urth’s land surface. 

He first glided his hand to the interior wall, nothing new but the grimy dust he collected. He tested its durability by vehemently punching it with his gloved hand. This resulted in a loud hissing and cradling his aching hand from the pain. He tried his blaster that he stowed on his pockets, shooting at the wall. The pellet of emitting light and intensity was gone when it shot on it, and unfortunately, it did not make any dents or marks at all. It is wasn’t any ordinary Urth wall. Its density is outrageously better than a human-made’s strongest barrier. Possibly in Irken standards of material. It even deflected his strong blast.

“The Vortian's,” Zim slightly gasps, the recognition struck that Winslow is the co-boss of the facility.

Zim took his vision to another aspect of the place. They had lighting just fine, but most of it were broken. Blinking lightbulbs are there from time to time, and the other halls were too dark to be able to discern anything. He shifted his focus on something that’s more distinguishable hallways than those.

He put the realization of the Vortian's doing on the back of his mind, and spent his time looking over the many hallways, impatiently storming and kicking every door by each ticking minutes of wasted time for hunting on the materials. GIR is being the usual gaily robot, singing some nonsensical music. He doesn’t have to shut him up because of the noise, rather let him do it because he would cry and whine, then wander around without his permission. Besides, he’s getting used to these moronic tunes and NOT because he likes it. The better he gets accustomed to it, the less annoying it would be for his entire life living along with this _special_ SIR unit.

The irritating sense of curiosity to go for the pitch-black corridors was growing, since it seems not once in these doors that were labeled “Alien Technology”. And the only thing he could lighten his way is the flashlight that the Dib stocked for him. At first, he thought bringing a human flashlight to see things clearly is idiotic. He can handle himself without any of the useless illuminating tools just for his quintessential sight that is no match for such types of weakling tools.

But here he is right now, here in these dingy and poorly lit pathways, a flashlight picked from his hoodie pockets, and flickered it to brighten at his direction. 

He hated that Dib-human had to be right. 

He can fully visualize the very darkened place he was supposed to go for, since this piques his interest on what’s on the other side of the hallways than the ones he already had seen and done with. Well, some of it, he was just vexed by the time he’s killing. And he had to hope these dark halls may have the objective.

He ventured further through these corridors, sometimes getting sprinkled of soots from the ceiling and bumping into blockages of the accumulated crumbled pieces of land. He tried not to be unnerved with the whole situation of someone might be alive in here, at least that’s what he’s getting at. A couple of weeks isn’t that long, the chances of some living beings may survive on this filthy forsaken laboratory. But his lekku picked up a whoosh of wind from behind during his tramping, and clunks of metal resonating from everywhere. He excused as the gravity pulls them down, but it sounded unlikely to him. What only comforted him from being stiff and rigid all this time was GIR’s incessant jingles, reminding him that he has a backup if the need arises.

The subtle allusion to Dib-stink had him question his decision to either call him or let him be to avoid more unbridled questions.

With that, he took off his hood and switched the coms on. “Dib-worm,” He doesn’t know whether to ask him on something irrelevant or throw out some insults. He doesn’t even know why he did this. A stupid decision, coming from him. He wants to defend himself back that he’s not this stupid in general.

Although, no one was voicing out of his coms. It was then Zim narrowed his eyesight for the absence of the boy. And when, at the same time, he swore he saw a black figure moved across the halls from the luminescence of his flashlight. Extremely suspicious and cautious, he let go of the tiny device from his ear and fiddled in his pockets yet again, cocking his blaster to direct at his front, his flashlight had the same direction.

“GIR! I need you to check on the suspicion over there. Quickly!” He sharply points across the long hallway was the three-way corridors, to where he saw the figure.

“Yes, Master!” GIR saluted with his red oculars, using his leg thrusters to zoom in the premises. He jetted past all passageways with an ear-shattering screech of “WOHOO”s along the way, which was getting on Zim’s nerves.

The Invader waited, his senses fully attentive, especially the antenna, which is circumnavigating every sound in everything. His blaster was iron-gripped on his hand, methodically twiddling the trigger. The flashlight was agitatedly being swayed around him, thinking if he even halts for a long couple of seconds, someone might pounce on him. 

In which, someone did. 

Suddenly, a violent and single attack strikes him straight in the face, thrashing him off the ground with a harsh clash against the floor. Zim didn’t bother his pounded head and immediately pointed his weapon at the mysterious attacker who also tumbled beside him.

Apparently, it was only GIR howling in laughter, rolling over the floor in enjoyment, “THAT WAS FUUUN. AGAIN! AGAIN!” 

Zim stared at him for awhile, dumbfounded, until he growled in aggravation and regained his senses, reclaiming back his blaster and flashlight. 

“Do NOT ever do that again, GIR! The enemy could have us at any moment. And we cannot be sloppy and negligent when there ARE enemies near! You understand, GIR?” Zim chastised the robot who was sitting like an innocent child, (who isn’t an innocent and rather a troublemaker). GIR nodded enthusiastically with his tongue sticking out. Zim just sighed, infuriated, then reverting back to a placid nature and focusing on the task at hand, “What did you find?” 

“Weeell...” GIR faced him with a beady-eyed smile, the robot eyes staring at his master eagerly. Zim wrinkled his own look, incensed confusion rising. “What?” 

It was when he took notice of the SIR’s arms on his back, hiding something. 

“Say the magic word~” GIR teases with a childish smirk, leaning his head forward for him to listen. Zim grimaces even more, but he did not forcefully tell him to give him the object. 

“ _Please,_ ” He grits with a voice of unwillingness, madly questioning himself as to why he didn’t just grab away the concealed item from the robot. 

GIR giggled in the small achievement before he gave what he promised. He presented him with some sort of human gadget. It was a hand-sized coal-black recording device, or what they call it a “voice recorder”, at least, that’s what the humans had named it years ago.

His robot servant wiggled the object. “I FOUND CHOCOLATE!” Just then he was moving his hand that holds the device close to his open mouth, Zim snatches the recorder right away and tries to study it, but he can already hear the upcoming whining from just the upset face of his stupid sidekick. 

“GIR, this isn’t chocolate. It’s a primitive and awful-looking artifact of this weak species’ invention. Now, go find something else useful and don’t bother me. It is an order from your master and you obey it, understood?” The Invader waves him off in an uncharacteristic soft tone, probably what motivated GIR to do his bidding quite fast and dashed off to the passageways without another word but a loud whoop.

He really needs to teach his servant to do better on his frenzied behavior. Should these tantrums keep going, it will be a disturbance for the future important events. Or maybe he could as the Dib for some disciplining advice on how did he-

The Irken shakes his head from the idea. He declined to have the _need_ for assistance on that Dib-stink. He can seek a piece of advice on his computer later, after he gets this done soon enough.

He examines the handheld device, peering at it in every direction. It has three buttons on its side with some strange human symbols he can’t understand. One button was red, and the rest is the same as its whole coal color. Inside of the device has a couple of small tapes. It definitely is a voice recorder, but he doesn’t know how to make it work. He hasn’t learned every technology that humans have. If he had to be brutally honest, it’s because most of their contrivances are pointless to acknowledge for such as superior as their race is. They’re only of use for their basic needs and their wants, and worst of all they haven’t even invented any ships to get to other planets. They are the epitome of a primordial planet, eons away from basically every planet that is extremely advanced than theirs. Their narrow-minded brains aren’t capable of what’s to come when they finally get their transportation done for outer space, maybe Zim would even take this as entertainment to wait and see how they play with other races. They would cower instantly the minute they would be cornered with such futuristic technology they have than their primitive ones.

But even that, he knew not to toy with it too much. He now had to reschedule plans for the vital mission. He's in this huge piece of dirt in the first place, all because these humans had, in some unbelievable way, the supposed unimaginable power and control to enslave an Elite soldier of one of the highly regarded from the greatest Empire to ever rule in the galaxy. Such cowardice of him of how he made it happen. The good part about his “incidental" captivity was that it wasn’t those humans that did horrible things to him, but a mere Vortian who should be aiding their Empire.

However, this rogue is against everything the Irken Empire stands for. And Zim will make sure Winslow will pay for the disobedience and his audacity to experiment on Zim's perfectly functioning innards.

And as much as Dib wants to disagree, his father-unit would be also executed when the truce is over. 

He didn’t grasp that someone was talking to him at the time. He must’ve taken too long, staring at this piece of garbage.

“Just press the play button on the right.” 

It wasn’t echoing to the desolated halls, and it was only close to him. The comm was on, and so is the camera, which was laid upon to watch him handling the recorder

The voice did not sound like the insolent little brat he used to know for the past few hours of hounding him with relentless questions, but his other scary female sibling. 

“Dib-sister?” 

“Yep. It’s not like I don’t have an independent name or anything,” The Gaz-sister sarcastically speaks from the speakers, also hearing the rabid noises in the background. 

Whatever it was, it must be what she bought in that place in the mall earlier in the afternoon. Dib said it was a “Gaming shop” and that he shouldn’t try affronting all of its unidentified pieces of CDs and boxes of something Zim doesn’t even wanna know. The Irken outright disobeyed the human boy’s words, insulting the first thing he sees inside. 

He earned a punch on his one fake eye that bruised temporarily and a playful remark from Dib, although it has his pathetic look of concern as he attempted to get him some ice (Even though, he should’ve known Zim told him that this was only an ocular implant that was hit. But he didn’t refer to it as he reluctantly accepted the offer.) 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Dib's asleep, and said to me that I have to-quote on quote- babysit you.” 

“And you agreed on babying to sit on me?!” Zim exclaims accusingly, peeved that the Dib’s scary and younger clone had to coddle him and even sit on him. 

“Is this what Dib had to deal with? You?” She countered in a ludicrous tone, he doesn't know if she was also biting back a laugh or anger. Zim had to give the nasty scowl at the camera, even though she can’t see it from the camera lenses away from his face. It was fine that his expression was left unseen, just to be safe from her wrath. 

“Are you here to pester me too?” He sneers, thinking that the Dib-human set this up to keep disrupting his concentration on finding parts for the ship. If the Dib did drag this Gaz-sister to be a nuisance, then he might need to take this comm off. Forget about the emergency call to transmit it to his base, he can take care of tracking down the alien storage room all by himself. And with GIR that he had no idea why he had let him join into this. 

“Nah...” There was a pause that Zim thought it was his time to reply, but she cut him off, “Maybe, but I’m just here to watch you fail. Or die.”

The Irken huffed indignantly, “Zim is not going to die. Or fail. I’m a hundred percent assured I would get what I wanted without getting a scratch.”

“Alright then, do you know what you’re holding right now?”

“Ehh...” Zim hesitated, reminding himself of the fact he doesn’t know how to. Then again, he doesn’t want to be like one of the human traits he sorely despises: Be humble. It would mean he has to deal with his pride being deprecated and ask for help, but it would also mean an offense to him.

“Why yes! Of course! Zim knows anything in this putrid dirt of planet.” He should’ve regretted the moment she asked him back, “Okay, go for it and find the play button for the recorder.” 

Zim wished to divert his focus on something else than this. To move on and find what he’s looking for. But whatever may be the case for this sudden curiosity, it now felt like it’s essential to listen for what it may be the possibility of the creation of IGE. Although, he may care less for what Membrane’s involvement in this facility, it might be of help on how the Vortian started all of this enslavement on other races. To what would be his motives for conquering this planet. Then, Zim can thwart his plans, and he’ll be the only one who could take this planet to the Tallest. They will be proud. Zim will retrieve their escaped slave back to Vort and the secret special mission will be complete, along with a few of the Urth snacks and sweets that are surprisingly decent. 

The Invader thought to himself to try, and scrutinized the gadget more, leaning onto the three buttons that were on the side.

“Well?” Gaz-human raised from the comms.

“I’m working on it,” Zim grumbled, already annoyed by her presence than fearing it.

“You could always try and ask for help. But that would be too easy for you, now wouldn’t it?” She taunted, half-heartedly must have been amusing herself when Zim scoffed scornfully in dismay.

“Of course, Zim doesn’t _need_ help, especially for you or the Dib-stink. I can perfectly do fine by myself!” 

“Suit yourself.” Then, silence reigned in Zim’s comm. She probably turned it off and went back to playing, or just watching him intensely. Zim looked back on the recorder, pressing the lowest button. Nothing happened but a click sound effect was resounded.

After a few more minutes of fiddling with the device while most of the minutes deliberating not to embarrass himself in front of a merely human child, he concluded his second try: to press the middle button. The recorder emitted a moderate volume of another voice. A lowly booming voice of a grown male.

“Log date: 9-14-18,” The man vocalized through the recorder, the tape inside was rolling as he speaks. Zim smirked in victory, finally attaining the intel on IGE. He soon recognized that voice, though. It left him frowning that it was none other than the Vortian. The rogue Vortian. The Winslow. 

“Congratulations, idiot. You’ve finally pressed the right button,” Gaz heckled in a satirical tone. 

“Shush, Gaz-human! Zim is trying to listen.” 

Ignoring the Dib-sister’s grumpy whining, there was a short pregnant break of the man not speaking on the recorder, spending for more than a couple of seconds of uneasy silence. Zim thought that was all the Vortian put it in here. He could just spit on the device for killing his time. He thought the Vortian might have used this as a decoy as his final laugh for the Irken not achieving his conquest. That wasn’t the case, fortunately, now that Winslow voiced again, “I’ve managed to lock up the Irken that may have foiled my plans for the Earth’s destruction. At any moment, the Irken is not going to be an inconvenience.”

Zim smiled arrogantly, wondering how much of a shock the Vortian had when he made an appearance after almost burning him to death. It would’ve been a shocker for him if he really thinks he can just beat an Elite Invader from stinky water. For Zim, it was laughable if he thought of it that way and the highly notable fact that Elite Irken Invaders don’t back down without a fight. And from reminiscing back when he encountered the Vortian with Dib-stink’s red juice on the ground and a knife on his forehead, Winslow’s face says it all. It conveyed a sense of disbelief and lividness, not being able to satisfy of winning when Zim presented himself with a rough shove away from the worm-boy and a nasty growl of both genuine hostility and cruel pleasure towards the disguised Vortian.

“Now, I’ve been fired by the boss himself. It was such a shame, he could’ve let their world keep revolving for another year if it wasn't for that son of his. He is always the problem of the continuation of my plans. If the kid wasn’t so nosy, I would’ve done the mind-controlling scheme months ago.” A sigh escaped from the speakers, giving time for Zim to muse for a short span of a second. This Vortian snarled throughout the whole recording, disrelishing immensely the introduction of the boy. Zim almost swelled in subtle pride for Dib-stink’s dense interference that delayed the Vortian’s schemes.

That was an ‘almost’, because it doesn’t make sense. What would be the reason the Dib had been a problem to his schemes? How did he inadvertently spoil the Vortian’s plans? The boy only knew of the mind-control when it seemed far ready to be instigated. The ‘Complete status’ is already a handful, from what Dib had told him. What was stopping him there? He could have vanquished the planet months ago. Or probably years if this Vortian had stayed that long, concealed.

It half-heartedly answered from the Vortian once again, sounding hesitant, “Perhaps, I’ve underestimated the Earthen child. If I had to admit, the boy isn’t as incapable as his father had addressed him to be. He’s smarter than any children I’ve dealt on Earth. This supports by his brilliance against a Vortian software, combined with Membrane’s tech. He was able to hijack the systems without a struggle, and even gone for three months undetected. His determination and obstinance are astounding.” The Winslow's awkward cough came out, and Zim contemplated even further, partly bemused. He hadn’t thought Dib-thing’s meek intelligence to be that... _advanced_ _._ Whether it may be gifted or a pure illogical miracle, it wasn’t possible for the Dib to know Vortian technology. Or alien-related at all. Although, the lengthy answer wasn’t of help of how did the Dib ceased him from setting his evil plans in motion, the main point he was baffled about.

However, he continued to keep the issue at bay, listening more to what the Vortian has about to say. This isn’t about the Dib. It’s about how to beat the Vortian from devastating his mission. That’s always one of the priorities he ingrained on his mind, and he’s not going to it take away on somebody else he doesn’t need to care.

“But no matter, I won’t dwell on this any longer. Earth is going to be terminated. This log date will be in regards on my future self who will work on the schematics for its immediate decimation,” The more he talks, his voice darkens, however, that didn’t stop Zim’s malicious anticipation pumped up, yet made a face, asking nonverbally as to why would anyone need to remind themselves about things they can clearly plot and remember.

Nonetheless, he still paid attention to his stratagem.

“You need to put the technology somewhere they can never find, and hopefully will not be found. This will spread out a virus, faster than the speed of light. Once it proliferates on a wider scale, for the living beings of this planet, it will be a massacre of trillions. And its entirety. The planet’s inhabitants will be their own demise.” He can hear the spiteful little chuckle growing, but it turned abruptly silent. Puzzled, he checks for the tape, showing it wasn’t rolling anymore. The voice recorder stopped, creating an awkward stillness now that Zim remembers the Gaz must be on all ears on the comm. He hoped that she just forgets about this, that it wasn't really important for her. He imagined she was only playing her own gadgets, but that wasn’t the case.

“Welp,” Her nonchalant voice popped up afterward, that somehow unstiffened Zim’s discomfort of the barren wasteland of scrapped metals and rocks. “He's dead, right? And we don’t know where it was put. So, there's still a chance it might be inactive yet, y’know?” 

“How would you know that?” Zim tossed away the recorder, glowering at it for the little information given on the whereabouts of the technology planted somewhere on this planet. His abhorrence for the Vortian strengthened when he already had his plan of action initiated at any point in time. And here he is, only trying to find some modifications on his Voot just to adjust the traveling time to his homeworld. 

This whole mission felt... pathetic. 

But Zim wouldn’t let it happen. He would not just give Urth to some species weaker than the Irkens. He would not give up on taking over this planet. He would not grant the Vortian to get a chance to overthrow him off the throne of this human enslavement. Because it is HIS to devastate. No one else, but Zim.

“Yeah, okay. Are you done with your brooding session?” The girl is there again, annoying him with snide remarks. It made Zim’s blood boil. He isn’t the one to be made fun of. Not after Winslow is trying to prove he’s _incompetent_ by besting him to complete the mission.

He gagged at the term, despising it profoundly. 

His hatred passed onto nearly lashing out the human on the comm, “Stay OUT of this, _human_. Turn off your communication device and just get out of my hearing.” He was on the verge of mighty fury and the sense of control, growling louder as he articulates his words. 

It resulted in no response, just like he wished. 

“MASTER!” 

And to think he actually had peace. 

Zim was about to berate GIR for calling him too loud that ruined his restrained temper, but was forcibly halted when GIR clung into his waist like a lifeline. It took him a short time to process, before screeching, “GIR, GET YOU ROBOTIC ARMS OFF ME!” 

“B-but-!” GIR was pushed off from the hug from the enraging Irken, huffing. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO BOTHE-“ 

“But master! The creepy crawlies! They’re hiding in the shadows!” 

As soon as he listened to the robot’s statement, his anger very slowly dissipates, though he was still solid on his temper, looking around erratically for any sign of life. 

There’s no one in the halls but him and GIR.

Vexed and steadily mad, he wheeled back to the robot, “There’s no one here, GIR. Now cease being a nui-“ 

“There! Right there,” GIR, full of panic, hid behind the Invader in a blink of an eye, holding his legs for dear life. Zim shot him a black look, subsequently steering his vision and the flashlight to where his sidekick is pointing.

There's _someone_ standing, so eerily. 

Across the long corridor, before his very eyes, Zim can already state it wasn’t human. The bulky and purple gilled body struck to his past memories. Species that he hadn’t cared to name off, or even make known of it. They were one of the most humongous races up to date, and this is only being one of their average height.

The Invade's first thought came upon his instincts was that he could handle one alien. Slide down to confuse the enemy and precisely shoot it at the back of its head, then it’ll stay dead. This would also satiate his sickly killing pleasures, always a desire to be number one in the leaderboards.

But the universe had opted him for his own death. He froze when two or more slithered into his beam of light, crawling out of their holes one by one.

The “Complete status” were still alive.


	6. Fight And Fend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib deals with Zim's obstinacy while not worrying too much that he might be going to die.
> 
> Zim deals with his jumbled mind to either fight for himself or accepts the help while not trying to die.
> 
> Gaz deals with the two idiots not to go apeshit while she enjoys the fight.
> 
> Gir is just helping.

A sudden ear-splitting shriek interrupted his calm trance of the oblivion, his head shot up from his cranky slumber. Grunting on the disruption, Dib soon registered enough to know he wasn’t in a comfortable posture to sleep in as he straightened up his body, sending him little jolts of his backside aching. Every muscle he forced to budge was sore. He had come to realize he was only leaning against the enclosed window and sitting cross-legged again. His neck twinges for a bad attempt to move it from its solidified and tipped position, earning an audible flinch on his awakening. His vision clears out after a few more blinks, recollecting what had happened.

“You done taking a nap, sleeping beauty?” The familiar monotonous voice of his little sister can be heard just sitting along with him.

_Wait..._

How did Gaz get inside his room? Why is she here? What had he missed? And why does she have a _popcorn bowl_?

Moreover, he also took microphone blocking at the bottom part of his vision, the cable connected to it was leading to a device on his right ear. A comlink. Was he that sleepy that he really didn’t bother to take them off? 

Tiredly sighing at the reminder, he blearily looked at where Gaz was watching, seeing that she was really engrossed at the laptop and had put her game down her lap, no pixel characters on the console at all. How long has she been watching?

And before he knows it, the earlier memories all hit him like several clashes of muddled up trains on his head rather than one, flooding in as he settled his amber eyes on the screen of his laptop. 

He remembered he had importuned Zim to let him work side by side on his mission without the need to be there physically, to which the other had given him the Irken emergency, an orb, that communicates to the computer from the base. He bugged Zim for the entire half an hour of walking across the city just to get to the demolished Membrane Labs. There was a hazy conversation he wanted to forget, and decided to keep it that way. He did not want to delve into what Zim had said about him. He had tuned the comms off and busied himself by using the emergency device at the time. He can still feel his deep-seated grudge against Zim’s last statement, trying to focus his mind on proving himself he’s worth of a support in his mission. The last thing did was to tell the computer (It has a sulky personality, but he convinced it, much to its chagrin.) to scan the area where Zim was, tracking down every blood signature. 

And from what he can see on the side of his laptop, the orb transferred the results into a blue transparent screen, recently displaying mismatched hues of dots moving at a fast pace. It doesn’t have all the mapping of IGE, but the walls counted where Zim is close by (Since Zim has a tracker on his PAK, it provided his vicinage). It was showing the pair of pink dots were going twist and turns upon every hallway, obviously in a hurry. He had to guess the smaller dot with Zim is Gir, which he was puzzled about how the robot got into the signatures. He doesn’t have blood, does he? It must have been a part of Irken regulation since all invaders own SIR units and most likely to have trackers in them too. 

To make their race across every hallway reasonable, the other colorful dots were particularly chasing the Irken and his sidekick, falling behind but still at the same speed as the two were running away from them. 

That was when he realized what he had told the computer of tracking down the other blood signatures _excluding_ humans. It was to be sure if the probability of the “Complete Status” are up and running so he could warn the Irken. As to why Zim hadn’t thought of it before he did, the reason most likely his overconfidence that he thinks he can ultimately defeat them. 

His lungs felt constricted, tidbits of the nightmares reeling. The aliens thrashing him everywhere on Winslow’s office with the said person himself watching like it was a spectacle, enjoying his pain. And now, Zim is there to replace him from those same beatings. 

In a fit of panic, Dib’s vitality surged up, enabling the comm on his ear and held onto the mouthpiece. “ZIM! Are you still there?!” 

Through the camera lenses viewed on his laptop, he can make out the flashlight being beamed in front and hearing a lot of several freakish footsteps, that it may have been the other aliens'. The speaker was eliciting GIR’s gleeful screeching, along with aggravated rebukes from Zim, until Dib had spoken up.

“LEAVE ME ALONE, DIB! ZIM DOESN’T NEED YOUR FILTHY ASSISTANCE!” Zim skidded across the smooth floor to turn his course. It seems he was also having intervals of turning his body to shoot behind him.

“Zim, this is not the time for being stubborn. This is much more da-!”

The next thing he noticed was static on his laptop and the communications abruptly stopped, exhibiting a new window of ‘error’ and ‘lost signal’ on his gadget, but the camera was still activated on the other window. It was playing Zim's gloved hand throwing away a small gizmo, instantly knowing it was Zim’s comm. The tech that Dib gave to him, thrown away because he thinks he has the idea that he could beat multiple and various sizes of advanced alien trailing in his way. 

“Zim?! ZIM?! No, no, no you moron!” He smashed his white-knuckled fist to the comforter, livid and frantic amber eyes locking into the monitor of Zim and Gir continued racing for another skitter. 

Taking a small intake of air and running his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself from the fact Zim just childishly tossed the comm away and have no way of telling him he can finally locate where the storage full of assorted alien technologies are. With the high-tech Irken computer and its programming, he was able to detect any substance that is not humanly generated from Zim’s proximity to the site. It wasn’t working at first, because Dib had to take out the many Membrane’s security apparatus. By linking his laptop to the Irken computer so that he can operate on detecting Membrane’s machinery better (back then, Dib had to make a software to identify his father’s works so he would shut up about telling him to do something ‘scientific’. It failed the second time, but at least Dad got to see it the first time, and he didn't bring it up again), he found out only one was still activated: The MemCloak, aka a Cloaking device Dib uses often (Sadly, it's been confiscated). No wonder his paranormal scanners haven’t been alarmed for any weird disturbances or irregular frequencies near his father’s Labs. It was cloaked. Hidden and concealed from the sensors to their alien experimentation. 

Hence, he posted the cloaking device as a red cross on the hologram, and it was afar from Zim's dot. 

Zim could’ve found their objective faster if he wasn’t being so adamant. Dib wouldn’t have to worry about his health anymore too, if he hadn’t thrown their only communication away so that he could now only watch the Irken die in the screens 

With no choice but to use a foreign device yet again, he called over the pink sphere. “Computer?!” 

“Whaaat?” It was still whining. Did Zim make a sentimental AI? 

Shaking his head back into concentration and ignoring the repudiation of the AI computer, Dib wheeled his gaze towards it and inquired, “Do you have something that can help Zim?” 

“Uh- I’m not supposed to disobey master's orders. He said not to involve you in his mission or whatever he’s doing.” 

“You’ve already violated the rules! By helping me tracking Zim and the way to get to the objective.” 

“This isn’t much of aid for him either, cuz you’ve not connected to him anymore, so...” 

Dib was tempted to scream out of frustration and rip his hair out. Not being able to come in aid for Zim getting himself into trouble is awfully nerve-racking. The “Complete Status” were the ones chasing them, Dib was certain. From a couple of turns of Zim shooting down the aliens behind, he has the glimpses of their disks still there on their heads. He doesn’t know if they’re mind-controlled or just an alien instinct to eliminate. Besides that, all of them are loose in an underground and secret facility, with Zim about to be killed, since they were sounding dead set on doing that corresponding to their loud and eager thumps of their footsteps towards the Irken. Even though they were a small group, they were verified to be the best specimens on the test progressions based on the files.

Here was Dib, only sitting and looking in the camera to see Zim’s point of view, who might about to lose his breath and get caught. He still wasn’t far from being hurt, but it did no comfort. It’s not like Dib was just watching a horror movie, this was literally happening and Zim could potentially perish. But what can he really do? Zim prevented him from using the computer, the only thing that may assist him. He can’t break out of the house because he and Gaz have their Membracelets for a couple more days before his freedom strikes. It’ll alert Membrane from the basement and would ground him for another week. He can’t take that risk, but Zim needs help, despite his own self-absorbed ‘high standards’ of expertise. 

He didn’t know he was already pacing around his room, removing himself from the unpleasant fidgeting on the bed. His two halves of the brain are too clouded to pick the right thing. He was almost deciding on saving Zim by himself, just like what he had done to him time and time again. But his father can be anywhere. He can catch Dib before he even flees the yard. It would only cause him more consequences, and Zim dying either way. 

“Could you calm down for one minute, Dib? Your presence is already annoying,” Gaz interrupted his agitated state, which he wholly did not take notice of in order to constrain snapping onto her. 

His sister just groaned at the ignored advice, her attention heading towards the pink ball, “Zim’s computer, you there?” 

“I told you. I’m not allowed to.” 

“Since when does that ever stopped you?” Dib half-listened to his sibling’s conversation to the AI, a glimmer of hope into trusting Gaz to persuade it.

“Er- I can get replaced and shut down if I do.”

“And you’re that big of a coward that you are set on to not do anything to keep out of your master’s stubborn a- butt from his own death?” 

“Hmm, maybe. I’d like to be without his incessant bragging.” 

“Huh, okay then… though I do sense there’s a ‘but’ in there, doesn’t it?” 

“... Fine, I would be shut down on both cases anyways.” 

This is one of the times he liked Gaz’s sly wittiness. She was like a blessing and a curse to exist in this world and a member of the family. Dib wondered how his life would go without his sister insulting and curbing his obsessions. 

The older sibling surged up his determination, nearly hugging Gaz if it weren’t for his hesitation to think of causing a black eye on his face. Instead, he thanked her with a hopeful grin and a nod of appreciation. Gaz did not react to him but a blank look, before she went back to eating her popcorn and watching on his laptop.

“Alright, computer,” Dib confidently declared, rubbing his palms together in preparation. He jumped back into bed, and crawled near the orb. “Show me what you got.”

A grumbled protest, but it reluctantly complied. The blue transparent panel about the blood signatures was moved to the side, letting another holographic screen take place. It was a digital blueprint.

Dib skimmed through the whole thing, effortlessly understanding it after for the years of reading so many articles and documentations on both Science and paranormal. And he knew just the right host for this. 

“Gaz?” 

“What?” 

“You might want to see this.” 

Gaz muttered a protest but shifted to him on reading the blueprint. She was unimpressed. Dib had to ask the computer for something on her liking. 

“Hey, computer, got any weaponry?” 

“A whole stack. This is just a prototype, but it’s functional.” 

“Great. So… Gaz?” Dib anticipates her answer, smiling smugly as she has her lips on a thin line, probably resisting the offer. But Dib knows she had been waiting for this moment too. 

Her response was towards the orb, “Show me the whole stack I can use.”

Dib clapped his hands with a mumbled victorious ‘yes’. “I’m gonna go get my own stuff. Computer, better scan her to adjust for the controls.”

* * *

Zim was instantaneously swooped down on the floor by the unnamed purple alien pounced behind him, causing GIR to be dropped down from his one arm and was apprehended by other smaller aliens. His gun slid out of his grasp, now far from his reach. The small camera on his hoodie must’ve been broken when he heard it crack underneath him. The Dib-stink will not be happy with it, but Zim could care less. 

He thrashed against the heavyweight of the beast, shrieking fruitlessly of Irken curses. He shouldn't have underestimated their skillsets. He should've taken the Dib-thing's warning seriously. Of course, these stinky brainwashed idiots would still be alive. 

“LET GO OF US, YOU PEABRAINED BEASTS!” His face was compressed on the dusted floor, teeth still gritting and his death glare sealed on the purple beast holding him on the back, whose face was impassive and empty. They’re still being mind-controlled.

It means someone is currently controlling them. 

Zim cursed under his breath for both reasons: tightening their grip on his arms and the thoughts forming into unlikeable conclusions.

There is a chance that this may be another alien controlling them. A successor of the rogue Vortian, probably a different kind of race that united on the other to fight against the Irken Empire. An experimented specimen that may have the great faith of Winslow to really take over the mind-control for him. It could be that.

The likely possibility is _Winslow_ is still living. He’s out there, scheming something correlating to his Plan B: The diffusion of the virus. And this might have been only a ruse. A ploy to keep him out of his way of destroying Urth. He thinks that Zim will fail his mission, that he will be foolishly following the diversion he set up for him, that he won’t be getting there before the virus spreads. 

Perhaps, the Vortian was right. 

He ended up here in this situation alongside his robot servant, detained by these filthy aliens that have come upon this very land of the dirt. He threw away the emergency he had left to escape, all because he thought he has a plan so ‘flawlessly’ written in his mind.

~~Defective mind.~~

And there was the _doubt_ yet again.

He didn’t continue his train of thought the moment he was suddenly pummeled against the floor again, hard. Several times.

His head was feeling lightweight, past beyond operational on what he wants to do. His limbs were getting limp. His whole bodily system is weakening from the constant pounding of his brain on the ground. He coughed out his pink blood, splattering it on the ground, and the other trickling down from his forehead. His obstinacy was deteriorating, giving in the pain being sent to him. He said to himself that he won’t be conceding defeat. He would prove himself to be worthy to be part of the Elite. Worthy to be praised by the Almighty Tallests. Worthy of Irk’s honor.

The Irken is already failing for his life.

If he dies without presenting his domination of this planet, the Tallests will be less than pleased. His robot might be dead, who knows. It felt like forever in this dazed state.

The pounding abruptly stopped amidst on near-death, giving Zim some time to cough more of the blood while his skull is excruciatingly gnawing. At least, they weren’t whacking his bloodied face to the ground anymore. He did not want to go back into that experience again.

They lifted him up, the hefty purple one’s arm holding him by the neck, locking it. 

His feet were dangling, not being able to touch to the ground. He tried to pull away from the big arm on his neck or even his whole chest due to his body being smaller, but the only thing he has done was groaning in his suffering. He feels his own pink liquid oozing down his mouth, his dazed eyes were facing the menacing silhouettes of the aliens staring right at him since his oculars aren’t working well and his flashlight is nowhere to be seen. The only lighting given was the dimly lightbulbs on the ceiling, making this scene a lot scarier for him. He watched a few of the human horrific shows on a ‘television’, reminiscing that one character got butchered up in a dim lighting and many lurking monsters that almost seemed whimsical to even believe it’s real. Now, he was living in it, dubious if this was actually making him fear like the human shows wanted the watchers to feel. 

Fear isn’t much of a popular vocabulary to him. Rather, it was infamous. In the beginning, as a smeet, their instructors always taught them fear can lead to vulnerability. Then, it would result to failure in compliance. And above all, a dishonor to the Control Brains and the Tallest if an Irken meets all these traits. Growing up, their commanders would be tasking them to toughen up and prepare for any battles if an Irken trainee is dreaming to become an Invader. Show dominance over their soon-to-be-slaves and coerce them to bow as their soon-to-be-their-overlord. It’ll reward of a promotion to the Elite and be acclaimed for his/her hard work to be an Irken Invader. 

Zim has some moments of fearing something, true, but those were on different circumstances. This time, he was fearing he would lose and letting Winslow win by dying. 

It was fearing he would never get the prestige of his own race and his leaders. 

He was afraid he was failing, wasn’t it? Or was it something else. 

A cold circular object was pressed against his forehead, Zim perceiving it to be an Urth gun. His weak growl wasn’t enough to take on the muzzle off him and spitting the blood towards the one who held him at gunpoint is only provoking them to push it further. 

There was a cold feeling the purple alien’s humungous hand deliberately held his petite humane hand, only to feel something break and impale him with some of its shrapnel. 

It was the watch. The watch he just created just yesterday for the new human custom he was settled upon. 

It effectively removed his tanned skin disguise, the added fingers on his claw were vanishing, as well as the ears and nose by the transparent little cubes morphing him back into his previous disguise: Just his dark-haired wig and purple eye contacts. 

He wants to be mad, just aggressively maul each one of them down. His hard work put into that invention to make sure he can be concealed from the Dib-father. But he couldn’t. He has no power in this. 

Despite that, exposed or not, lose or win, he will not show any weaknesses. The fear of dying was in there, but he didn’t make it evident. He’s not going to die whimpering and imploring for mercy. He glared daggers at the gunner. 

Then, a shot rang. 

Zim was looking the alien collapsed, completely dea- no, _stunned_ , its body having spasms on the floor. 

All eyes drifted to the crimson glow of the shot. What happened wasn’t normal for any human-made weaponry, and from Zim’s vision, the one who has electrocuted the mind-controlled was just a blurry figure of full silvery grey with a pair of sturdy and mundane antennae. It was familiar from his fuzzy memories, but he’d rather not mull over as it stands out, this is a great distraction. 

What he also identified that was aiming on the one above him was a gun he had come to know since he had been an Invader-in-training. It was an Irken military gun. A long-barreled firearm, couple types of magenta tinted, and quickly reloaded as an easy advantage. It can be adjusted to stun to kill, or stun to fall into unconsciousness. 

The alien who was restraining his breathing from pressuring the neck tightened, which sent a reaction of Zim sucking a breath yet coughing in the end. His captor was too slow to know what was happening, a discourteous drop of Zim as another red plasma of the Irken-made pellet whizzed to him, specifically to his captor. He caught a glimpse of the bulky alien staggering from his fixed hunky position after the balst hit him. It bellowed a mixture of grating clicks and grim war cry, and barreled straight to the figure. 

And so are the other aliens, all running to their one attacker. 

Zim hobbled across the battle between many aliens versus one masked savior, nearing on a GIR rooting whatever to the chaos. “GIR, Q-rhur, now,” He rasped through coughing breaths, slightly relaxing against the wall for his enervated body to take a free resting time when the robot happily obeyed, fumbling out of its round-coned head. Zim watched the mind-controlled seemingly getting the upper hand, beating the petite grey figure like a training dummy. Punches and blows were basically crushing it. But, his unknown savior wasn’t backing down. It was ruthlessly hauling each one of them out of its way afterwards. One slim alien got bashed to the wall too violently that it made a large dent of its body, and others were stunned to collapse just as the first dead alien, but no blood pooling down. Zim can finally point out there was another gun on the figure’s other hand. It was smaller than the last one (which he currently saw it was flung somewhere away from the fray) now colored of blue and lighted with sparks inside of it, seeing by the thin glass of the barrel of the weapon. 

It struck to him that he knows all those weaponries. Because it was from the Irken Empire. 

“Here ya go, master!” Zim flinched by the squeal. It could have attracted the attention of the mind-controlled just meters away from their spot, had it not been for this robotically suited savior fending them off, albeit that guy isn’t actually an expert at tactical fighting but recklessly combating everyone in its way. A tiny grey hand manifested in front of his blurry field of vision, wagging a syringe contained of the green bubbly liquid. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and inserted the needle into his arm, plunging the does into his skin. It administered the it quickly enough to mend the wound on his head like it regenerated new cells and reviving the energy back to drive his entire body system to the max. 

The pieces of shrapnel on his green skin did not go away, but he ignored it anyways. 

The instant his sight has clarity, he dodged a large jade green fist of a Planet Jacker. GIR just stayed on the sidelines, which Zim is glad for. He doesn’t another plate on his hands, right now he will have to deal with this Planet Jacker. 

“Zim idiot!” His antennae perked up at the call of his name, shifting inside the wig, wondering how someone would know his name. He suddenly sees the gleaming electricity behind his attacker, zapping it to incapacitation. Zim lifted his widened eyes to the familiar silver-looking figure who holds the voltaic gun, which he notices it wasn’t just some armory. 

It was his battle mech. 

The same molding as his body to represent a version of himself of a shining fossil. He didn’t entail the details of the whole biology of the Irken body since it was going to be a hassle, and merely emphasized on the durability of the armor. He also gave it sets of weaponry that can be stored inside the battle mech to make its purpose fully. After all, no one is supposed to be really within the mech, it was just a shell for the real puppeteer to relay the movements with the weapons of their choice. 

If he wasn’t the one steering the robot, then it must be someone that deployed it from his Irken Emergency Sphere. 

And he knew just the person who has it. 

“Here!” Zim barely caught the small firearm thrown at him, stumbling as he did so. He noted it to be the electric-powered one. 

The battle mech immediately went back to attacking them and preventing them from getting to him, gaining the high ground due to its numbers going down by its every shot and kick. Zim was partly impressed by how the puppeteer was able to fight that good.

“Go before they catch you!” The tone sounded female, vexed, and flatly raging like it was command. Zim doesn’t attest to such orders. 

He was ready to balk at whoever’s at the controls of the mech, but had been thwarted to someone hollering his name.

“Zim, there you are!” Zim knew the moment that other voice first rang into his lekku, he spun on his heel, frantically seeking the source of that brat’s relieved voice. 

The first thing that visualized in his head was that the Dib measly followed him through this wretched place of cramped rocks, where he should’ve noticed it by now it was highly dangerous, considering he just witnessed from the cameras these aliens were hell-bent trying to maul Zim completely, and almost did. If they were to kill trespassers in general, the boy wouldn’t even survive the second he steps into this abandoned facility.

But now, it wasn’t what he expected. A tiny bug of strangely coated of shining iron, flying in front for Zim to see. Did the child transform into a feeble little being of Urth? He hasn’t like that in his months of observation on this planet.

“C’mon and follow me, I know how to get to the techs,” Dib is unusually high-pitched in the bug speakers, laced with the annoying eagerness of a naïve child. 

Zim narrowed and prepared a rant for the human for coming here to ‘help’ when he can take care of himself. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Dib- _bug_ . I can do it myself and _only_ myself,” He spat, light venom dripping there but it was only to reprimand him for going to Zim’s mission. 

However, the bug insisted, now with a sullener tone, “Stop it, Zim. Let us help you. Gaz just saved you in that Irken mech! We can help!” 

“Never! And never will be!” 

The bug did not hover away, unfortunately, when Zim ordered GIR to pull up the thrusters. The insect kept talking about how he doesn’t have to deny of aid, buzzing around to get his focus on him, but Zim was persistent. He knows he can handle it, it’s not denial. He can _handle_ it. 

He may have been saved by the Dib-sister in the battle mech, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’s just a nice bait to lure them away. Nothing more. He could’ve released himself from that grip of the alien if he had more time. She just had to impede his idea and ruin it for degrading his dignity. 

He retrieved the flashlight and his own gun later on, putting the stun gun on his pockets lest of losing the original one. He hopped to GIR’s back and blasted away from the mayhem, ignoring the cries of the Dib-bug echoing down the empty halls. 

“Stupid Dib, who does he think Zim is? He’s nothing but a mere fool boy with no capa-“ 

A sudden flicker on his one lekku by the wig signaled it was bothered a sound of clanking metals that wasn’t from his robot servant. Zim kept his oculars peeled and paid much more attention to his hearing, all the while he pilots GIR. His hand was squeezing hard onto the gun, fiddling with the trigger. His surroundings were at times dark without his flashlight, making it hard for Zim to swerve from every end of the halls. But it didn’t matter to that right now, as long as these people will keep on his tails, he will not be safe. He had to think fast this time. Many of these are alive in here and running, they could be anywhere. And all their intentions were seemingly in executing him. 

He clenched his teeth, outraged. Winslow might have thought of Zim coming back in this rancid laboratory, possibly have known of his situation right now at his ‘bad’ strategy if he was watching through these “Complete Status” disks on their heads. 

Once he obtains all the requirements, he’s going to make a bloodbath in this facility. Mind-controlled or not, they’re _dead_. 

A fit of hissing and clacking were reverberating among the eerie halls, confusing and frustrating the Irken of where the origin of it would be. What he does know was that it’s close to him and GIR, that was for certain. 

They were going along smoothly, up until Dib’s shout erupted from behind, “DUCK!” 

That was the time Zim followed to his advice and lowered his body as fast as inhumanly possible. He felt a whiplash of air tingling near his neck. A close call of a small slice cut on his skin by the neck, which did not hurt but he sensed it.

The only thing he caught sight from above when he looked up, was a snake-like creature _crawling_ upside down, on top of him, and about to strike him with its razor-edged claws by turning its whole neck to 180, arms raised to target him. Subsequently, he unintentionally skidded GIR to a halt for evading another blow, causing Zim to abruptly fly forwards, and crashing with a pained grunt. The creature was emanating aggressive clicks and mad garbles on its throat. He turned to see it jumped down the ground, slithering menacingly to the Irken.

Zim couldn’t think straight when he was desperately trying to scurry away from the elongated creature with its jagged skin on top, teeth and claws that could indisputably puncture deep into one’s flesh and organ. It was still in the shadows of the bare lighting, making it hard to discern what kind of species it is. He didn’t bother to even think about the gun just within his reach, or a plan of action to flee. His focus was, strangely, on the eyes of the predator, slits so thin and cold ice that it could legitimately freeze him. Well, it seemed like it is doing to him right now. Why wasn’t he moving? He can consciously see what was about to happen here, so why isn’t his body frozen in his place, looking ready to be eaten by an alien race he did not care to name?

A perpetual buzzing flittered between them, flying around the predator’s head wildly. The alien’s look was wrathful, foaming on the mouth with an animalistic hiss. Eventually, the minuscule bug got to take the creature’s mesmerizing eyes off of Zim’s direction, who began to jostle, fully voluntary to act on instinct, reclaiming his gun. He narrowed his eyes to aim directly to head of the enemy, pressing the trigger without his hand jerking for the shot. 

It brought the creature’s one last breath to a stop, falling in a heap with its own olive blood bathed the floor.

Zim panted, slightly shuddering from the experience of the uncontrollable stagnancy, seconds ago from being mutilated, his eyes horror-stricken at the carcass of the alien. It has a power. A predator preying the prey close to it, and slim slits obviously have the ability that could do it. The feeling of powerlessness was surreal. It was like trapping itself inside a mind and the bodily functions weren’t at yours to control. 

He felt powerless. 

And it scared him. 

But... Zim isn’t scared. No. He refuses to be. He still has control. He wasn’t there anymore. He can bring his honor back into a glorious victory, and he’s not going to be backed down by some otherworldly species. 

He shuts his eyes for a little while, trying to remain thinking he’s at the present, not wandering on what has been done. He trembled to pick himself up, breathing uneven. Just as he planned to get back on track, the tiny Dib-bug hovered across the snake-like body and gone to his side, his voice enriches with jubilation and concern, “Still alive there, space boy?” 

The said Invader scowled at the nickname, knowing he was just teasing to lighten up, which it badly failed. 

And maybe, _maybe,_ loosened the contraction on his chest.

He had been calling him that for a little while, it was getting tiresome. He could’ve respectfully called him an Invader for his soon future overlord, although as predicted, he declined and kept harassing him with it more. He wants no more but to strangle the boy, but the truce holds him back. 

Might as well do it the same.

“Go away, Dib-bug. Fly away with your little spiny legs and flapping wings or something,” He dismissively waves the bug off, but it relented.

“This is a spy-bug, not an organically altering form. And it just saved you from being killed, by the way.” 

“Zim doesn’t need your sorry excuse of saving.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, you can either die here and not cooperate with us. Or you will deal with it and find what we need.” 

“I will not die.” Zim glares, trying to be as much as threatening for him to fly away and never involve himself from the mission again. 

“You will when you’ve already had, like, minutes ago. So, stop being stubborn!” 

“Cease your pestering and leave me alone!” Zim swatted the bug away from his path to GIR’s landing, who was jabbering on the dead body of his opponent, reeking of its foul stench of its own juice flowing. He checked on the robot’s damages to see if the thrusters were ready for ignition, kneeling down as he did so. 

Dib-stunk came back to reason, which he isn’t gonna listen for. “Zim-“ 

“How many times do I have to get my answer through you gargantuan skull of LIES!” 

“What is wrong with you today?” Dib’s tone turned completely sour, the weary patience getting this by each deflection Zim says. “You were never this- this stubborn! Two days ago, you asked us to help get your base back and fight off those robots. Why are you now so persistent on getting some support when you need us the most?” 

He glowered, hot-tempered, narrowing his human purple eyes at the bug, “That may have happened, yes, but I didn’t concur to it that easily. It was when my PAK doesn’t function and I basically used you two as bait. Not _support._ Zim does not want any help from the likes of you. I’m an Elite Invader, and I do not want any more aid than my SIR unit. I do not want to get help from someone who will be my enemy. I do not need an _incompetent_ Urth child, who is only a magnet for danger and death itself.” 

The Dib laughed, but it wasn’t as cheery as laughing at jokes, “Tell that to yourself when you have a bullet in your head.”

“Zim will be willing to, that is, after Zim would witness you _fail_ for the second time.” 

The silence thickened between the Irken and the bug, practically strangling themselves from the lack of air. The Dib wasn’t responding, feeling a strict cold aura. Despite that, neither was Zim. He isn’t planning to talk more of it. He walked off the conversation, then the constriction on his breathing grew, but didn’t take it seriously. It’s been happening whenever he’s insulting the Dib and he’d gone quiet for a long time.

He looked back at his servant, ordering him with a more serious authoritative tone, “GIR, initiate the thrusters.” 

“Yes Sir!” robot lighted onto red, duty mode, and the combustion of fire ignited from the coned-feet.

He had only used them for baits at the time. There was nothing more to it, but mindless children that used for his own gain.

But, if he had to be honest, He had thought they would have lesser purpose than that. But he got distracted, got himself crushed by those deficient droids, and that stupid Dib-idiot had the opportunity to take them all down with a pull of a lever. In a way, the siblings were the ones who managed to save him. Without them at his side, he could’ve been experimented on or died, and GIR wouldn’t be able to defend himself because he doesn’t have a master to be commanded of. Had he not asked for their aid, Zim could’ve ruined his own plans by his abrupt intervention to run for the control panels without thinking. The two smeets weren’t just baits for monsters to devour them. They were much better than he expected them to be. The Dib-sister has some experience in the arsenal, and Dib-thing is a smart and innovative child that he contributed ideas for the ammunitions and planning from that first night in his room. 

Now, the Dib-bug and his scary sister have saved him yet again. 

Swallowing little of his pride, only a _little_ , he dejectedly sighed, instantly turning around to give the stagnant hovering bug a furrowed glare, “What makes you think you have value in this mission, anyways? You’re just a tiny flapping-winged Urth bug.” 

“Wrong. I can guide you to where the cloaking device is. Destroy that and I can track down the tech,” The boy's voice was expressionless, but that wasn’t of the most important right now. Zim can deal with the brat’s icky feelings later when he can finally smack his face once more to toughen him up. 

“How? You don’t even have the right tech for finding them.” 

“Your computer can. It will detect the them along with my sensors, which also detects frequencies, especially getting stronger when it’s extraterrestrial. I had to link it to the orb to be able to clearly find the right spot where they would be. All we need to do first is to take out my Dad’s cloaking device. Then, we can spot them out.” 

Winslow is right. 

The Dib can also make purpose of alien technology. He wanted to question how was he able to utilize Irken technology to his pathetic Urth ones when he hasn’t touched any other species’ stuff in the first place, but it wasn’t the best place and time. 

His head leaned back and bit back a grudging groan of regret. He had no other choice in this matter. It was either he has the siblings or none. The obvious option can only set them for victory. The Tallest would not be proud of it, but he could try lying with his convincing and confident speeches. 

He just huffed instead, eyes cracking open to give Dib-stink the stink eye, “You better find it. And don’t even think for second that Zim isn’t competent for combat. I can fairly fight them off, you sack of meat-“ 

“Okay, okay! I know. We know you aren’t. You’re the mighty Zim, after all. An Elite Invader of its kind,” Dib-stink had snorted a laugh, which made Zim’s messy pressure on his mind lessened. The strangulation was gone whenever Dib was being disgustingly happy or relieved. Did the child put a curse on him? Had he injected him with nanobots inside his body and was now corresponding what the boy was currently acting? 

Whatever it is, he intends to figure it out, fast. He doesn’t like this new sensation. It was troubling him for the past few months since the child arrived.

Other than that, he felt a tingle within his body when Dib talked about the ‘competency’ on him. It seemed like a joke, which raises his suspicions if he did trust him. 

“Do you really think Zim would be capable of defeating over these braindead morons?” His question was supposed to be serious, but his tone doesn’t comply to it, sounding like he challenges. However, it did send a message to the Dib, which leaves his answer to really confirm it. 

“Yep. I mean, you told me you’re an Elite, right? I… I mean it. I know you’ll pull this off,” His voice diminishes from blithe to solemn. Zim can sense the awkwardness seeping from the camera lenses, the image of the Dib averting his own gaze away in shame.

There was another flutter of something… good that felt in his nerves. It didn’t hurt or harm his body, but boosted of spiritedness and pride. Ever since he started training as an Invader, he knew no one had spewed such compliments on his skills before. His instructors and commanders oftentimes tell him that he wasn’t becoming to be a part of the Elite because of his recklessness. He was too brash and disruptive, later on they wanted him to be expelled with a string of disapproving critics and disappointing glances. But those never stopped him, too engulfed on a quest to be an Invader. Be part of the Operation Doom 1, then the second one any time soon. 

Now someone had actually recognized his greatness. Noticed his expertise, impressed by his base, and awed at his inventions. He thought compliments would be for weaklings calling upon their overlord Irken Invaders and the Tallests. He could count the Urth boy like those weaklings, but he hadn’t really conquered any planet, yet. The fact that he said it before he can fully rule his home planet puzzles Zim. Perhaps it was just luck he managed to make Dib-worm his slave already. That was only the valid reason, right? 

A cough emerged from his hearing, releasing himself from his reverie. The Dib-bug was still immobile at his side, its wings buzzing and flittering that it makes his lekku twitch. 

“Just so you know, space boy, I’m still going to take you down. I’m gonna let you take over Earth that easily,” Dib enkindled with renewed buoyance. Zim rolled his eyes at the skittish attitude, but he let it slide, smirking in provocation just as he rode on GIR, “We’ll see about that, Earth worm.”

He blasted off once again, the bug lagging behind yet he retorted mirthfully, “I’m betting on it, space lizard!”


	7. Morally Humane or Vengefully Unjust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim is justifying his actions against human morals, which is vengeance.

Professor Membrane doesn’t recognize he had been blinking for more than 20 times per minute.

He breathed slowly, as if it’ll help clear his senses so that he can finally understand what he's trying to read off. It was beginning to frustrate him. The harsh repetitive taps of his boots weren’t helping him either, despite the urge to keep doing so.

He inspects the digital clock on his desk in curiosity, eyes getting weary and heavy when he sees it was a quarter to two. It meant he spent the whole seven hours reading on the files after his supper. He doesn’t mind staying up late at night, but the mere fact that he had been doing this for hours and not a single thing has been coherent in these data given. 

The man takes a deep breath, leaning back at the office chair for his hunched spine to rest. He pinched the bridge of his nose, albeit a little gentle due to the hard-cybernetic prosthetic. The fatigue and annoyance were there on his expression, but not noticeable for anyone to see.

He hadn’t gotten any progress on decrypting them. All of it were dead ends and missed wordings he hadn’t been able to understand. He was partially pleased with himself that he was able to take these folders off the facility and maintain them in his own lab before Dib and Gaz had snuck in.

The visual evidence on his hologram being displayed are bits of _that_ alien’s memories. One involves their large flagship and their insignia in front, resembling an Irken, and is hovering through space alongside hundreds of smaller spacecrafts. They were pretty much shielding the largest one by its sides. Other shreds of evidence were what the Irken’s current occupation takes place, and it was just some fast-food chain from a planet called "Foodcourtia". The rest of the visuals aren’t much of help for him when they’re only the Irken species seemingly marching simultaneously to somewhere.

The writings are worse to find clues for his leaders’ info. Their hieroglyphics did not match Egyptian ones or unable to decipher with their devices. Although, he was 80% sure it may be just the personal details on the Irken. 

He said to him he was an Elite Invader. A top of his class. Exterminated and enslaved millions of planets in his hundred Earth years of his life. It seemed overly exaggerating. However, taking into account the numerous contraptions the alien had been conserved in his lair, it could be a probability that he has. 

So why was he designated as a Food Service Drone? 

There was only one folder that Mr. Winslow, somehow, had it decrypted. The primal information about Zim. It wasn’t anything exciting to muse about. The alien is dead, anyways. 

If only Winslow was here, he could’ve gotten this decrypted without delay. 

He wasn’t answering his calls. He didn’t give him more contact numbers. It worries him that something might have happened to the man. After all, he has been his colleague for eight years, great assistance to the IGE. It was unfortunate that his surveillance and leadership isn’t doing any better when his son can just sneak into the facility in a span of three months, undetected. He’s certain that he left the job before the incident of Membrane Labs weeks ago. He should be. Unless he must’ve forgotten something to pick up from his office, then he came there at a terrible time. Hopefully, he could’ve escaped the place before Dib and Gaz infiltrated it.

But he had a nagging feeling he didn’t flee, nor survive.

“I need coffee,” Membrane mumbled to himself, rolling the chair away from the table to ponderously rise to his feet. He had gotten used to having strains on his back. His old age is finally getting to him, but it won’t matter if Dib will be open for the next Membrane for the leg

If not, he would have to find a way to find immortality.

Or just leave his legacy alone to dust and support his children’s likings and dreams instead. It’s what Laureen would’ve like to have him do, as a father. 

However, the indecisiveness still lingers. 

Making a way out of the basement lab, he hears a prolonged ruckus above him. It sounded like his son screaming to someone, really angry and irritated. His daughter was sometimes shouting for her brother to shut his mouth. Membrane had a little hunch that Gaz let Dib accompany to play with her games, though it was slim since she often never let him play her Game Slave. Not unless it was another console for two people. 

He wanted to dismiss that small concern for a caffeine to restore his brilliant mind back into focus, but then in the moment of the parental suspicion and trying to be a responsible father as to why both of his children are awake late at night, it won’t be bad to ask them for a reason of it and get it treated. 

Coming to a decision, he ascended by the stairs with a small struggle from the aching rear and headache, approaching the room that has the noisiest screaming, where the two children would be.

He wasn’t expecting they’re in Dib’s room. The noises were more comprehensible when he neared along with his son’s door. It was decorated with papers of childishly drawn ghosts, a sad face, and danger signs. Sticky notes of ‘no enter’ and ‘Earth is Doomed’ are here and there like the ones he had seen on one of his son’s corkboards pinned in his room. The boy had little mannerisms for cleaning. Luckily, he has automatic drones to vacuum up his mess when Dib chooses to do so. He respected his privacy, and that was the only good thing they’ve done with each other. Until he found out IGE. 

He lifts his hand to a ball for a knock, but as he faces the front of the door, his certainty dwindles. The reluctance to talk to his son was there, not knowing how would their conversation go. For all he could know, it would be Dib ignoring him and leaving him to stomach his poor misery of a father. 

He accidentally eavesdropped Dib’s shouts, alternating from vexed anger to euphoric rooting on that specific someone.

“NO! That’s not how it works, you moron!” 

“I can call you moron anytime, spaceboy! Now go for the left or you’re gonna get it!” 

“YEAH, finally! Keep going! You’re gonna make it!” 

“Idiot 1, quiet down! Idiot 2, stop fighting and smash it already. I’m trying to win here,” His daughter spoke rather calmly than Dib. 

“Not when he keeps messing up the directions- Oh, so it was MY fault?! You were the one who wanted a fistfight between tha-that big guy, not me!” 

It was all… chaotic, basically. Dib having an argument on someone over something. Gaz having to be the mediator between the two. Whoever was on the line with his son, it was either a friend online, since he can’t hear the other converse. 

Or was it? 

His son doesn’t have many friends -from what he can recall- for his whole lifetime. His sister would be occasionally at his side, but there’s nobody would ever desire to be in his acquaintanceship. It’s disheartening, to say the least. When he was the same age as he is, he never had anyone at Skool every single day until middle Skool had started, and a new student transferred to theirs. She was just as weird as him. Different beliefs, but they did well together, having both the best of brains and both lonely in elementary years.

He’s glad that they’re siblings. Being an only child is not fun, especially labeled an outcast. 

With a deep breath, he gently knocked down the door three times. 

It was a quick moment when the inside of the room waned into hushed conversations. He can’t make out the words, but he was sure they were in accusatory whispers. Membrane’s doubts and hesitance grew. Perhaps it wasn’t the right choice to question his children’s playtime. He had been a little too strict on Dib’s liberty and the only person that could soothe his house arrest for a few days is his sister and maybe the online person from the other line. And here, is their father with concealed cowardice and lies that are the only things holding him back from letting their relationship flow better. 

He can’t back out now, because the door in front of him slightly creaked open, looking down to reveal his son peering through the small gap of the door, amber eyes straight at his. Membrane shows his commonly neutral expression, all the while Dib might be confirming to himself that his father is standing right here and then shifted his position out of the room, closing the door immediately. Whatever he was hiding behind his room, Membrane only observed little before it closed. Gaz donned some sort of VR headset with some kind of pink controllers on both of her hands. She looked to be punching the air and stomping the carpet, though, he knew that it might be the virtual game that was the cause of her doing those moves. He notes his son's bed was quite a mess, as he predicted. A bowl with leftover popcorn, his laptop, and a pink shining ball. He swore there were some translucent blue screens, but he can’t be too sure. He was stuck in his lab with tons of holograms for seven hours. Hallucination is a possibility. 

Staring back at Dib’s stiffening stance, he noted he was biting his lip, averting eyes every now and then, and rocking his heels back and forth. He seemed jovial just a minute ago, and it seemed it never faded, considering the obvious itch of wanting to go back into his room. 

Dib timidly started off the conversation, now had the confidence to look at his father, “Dad… What’s up?” 

Membrane inhales, making sure to himself that he doesn’t show a face of disapproval and the voice of too much of an authority. He gives off a coy smile a concerned look from the boy’s face. Big baggy eyes and slouching spine already gave out the answer he hasn’t slept for so long. “Why are you late up at night, son? You know you need sleep, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Dib’s dejected answer and his puff of defiance were there, pouting and crossing arms when children don’t get what they want. It’s as if he knew what was about to happen next: the scolding. The Membrane his son knew was too strict, but paid no heed into his life at the time when everything wasn’t problematic like this. When he prioritized his works than his children, it was all going fine. He didn’t wonder pain or regret when he obsesses too much of Science. Now, he soaks in the consequences that hadn’t occurred to him back then. And he doesn’t how to really face the music. Because he knows himself, he can’t let go of what he worked on for years. It was deteriorating his relationship with his children, nevertheless, he was positive it would be worth it. He highly hopes it would be worth it. 

Dib would understand when gets older, wouldn’t he? 

The father slipped up a quirk of a smile from the silly pout, closing off the negativity plaguing in his mind and kneeled one knee and ruffled his child’s hair, who wasn’t objecting, nor whole-heartedly accepting. Membrane halts at his action, mulling about it for a short while, whether he should give some time for Dib to have the fun and the enthusiasm he needs when he heard the same feeling earlier of Dib and the person unknown bickering at each other. He hasn’t had that same energy ever since the demolition of Membrane Labs, and he wanted for his son not to feel… _oppressed_ like what he did for those past years of neglect. He just hopes Dib will get to see that one day he was really trying his best to be a better father. 

So, he tries to get along, “Are you winning the game, son?” 

At first, the younger one was confused at the sudden question, face inexpressive yet processing what he asked. Then, the second the father was about to rephrase his statement, Dib quickly dismisses it with a striking recognition, “Oh yeah! Yep. We’re winning the game. No troubles. Just some… inconveniences.” His face morphed into slight disgust, yet concealed with a smile. It seemed it was joking, must’ve been referring to the one he was bickering with. 

“Why do you ask?” Dib asked quietly yet suspiciously, his furrowed brows straight at him.

“Well…” He trails as he stands up, attempting to emit off a joyful aura to lessen Dib’s suspicion. It didn’t work, but that matter less. 

“Be sure you and your sister not stay up too late, alright?” 

“Wait, you’re letting us…?” His hopeful eyes twinkled from the ceiling lights above them as he dared to look up at him.

The professor chuckles it off, “It’s not Skool day, after all. Saturday’s tomorrow, son.” 

The son slightly gaped an ‘Oh’ at the short realization yet again, making it funnier in his eyes, though, he tried not to show it. He didn’t know children’s silliness would be amusing until now. 

Dib was reading into him after that, crinkling his nose and frowning in wariness. He wasn’t believing it, and Membrane expected that. 

After that short probing, Dib came up with a frank, “Sure. Yeah.” 

The older male nodded in agreement, clapping his hands to finalize the conversation. There were some files needed to be decrypted, and it was better he not ruin his children’s fun time. “I have to go on with my research. Go and play, just remember to sleep.” 

The child stares, full of doubt and skepticism, before turning away to the door. “Yeah… Good night, Dad,” 

The father murmurs a ‘Good night’ as the door closes. He spun his heel to the staircase, later remembering the exhaustion. 

A coffee would be a good thing to clear up his mind for a while. 

* * *

They’ve been swept away by these mind-controlled lunatics again, stopping their tracks to move forward. It was fortunate he managed to crush the cloaking device before this happened. No more setbacks but a bunch of low life species that was already conquered by the Irken Empire. Zim had to fight them off in order for him to keep moving and set aside his two animal-costumed robot companions so he can have this moment of showing his competency. 

GIR wasn’t being a bother because the Dib was there to take control of his _weird_ unpredictability. 

Dib-stink didn’t interrupt him to help through this whole fight. He _trusted_ him to win. 

Zim panted, somersaulting back to prevent a blow from the Planet Jacker’s fist, landing perfectly at the Plookesian. Below its metallic torso and arms, his legs wrapped up above the enemy's head, which he was sitting on the neon semi-circular glass containing one organic flesh- the head, obviously. The tall lanky but half-robotic alien did not react quickly when the Irken pointed the blaster to its glass barrier, instantly shooting through the round shield, shattering it completely. 

The bullet whizzed through the head, successfully killing the owner of the steel body. 

It dropped down, metals of the form crashing altogether, and Zim managed to jump himself off the body, later glimpsing the green liquid seeping down the floor. A victorious and devilish grin rose from the Invader, watching closely of the other alien right in front of him to engage an attack. Zim nimbly leaped off the side as it lunges like an Urth bull, still smiling contemptuously. The moment the Planet Jacker regained its composure, Zim outstretched his hand to target it by the chin, where the small gas tank implanted for the storage of its breathing. 

The outcome was satisfying when it tried sucking out for its own air, only to be met with nothing. It lasted longer than the other dead bodies he shot with, the excruciating writhing made it much more entertaining than the last unjustified quick deaths of the others. 

“YAY! YA DONE IT MASTER!” GIR cheered from behind, who was still sitting down the ground and clapping rapidly in commemoration for the defeat of his two opponents. 

“Of course, I am. I’m Zim!” The said Irken proudly stomps his boot to the chest of the Planet Jacker, posing dramatically with his body arched back, hands on his hips (while also holding his firearm), and asserting his dominance. Sizes of their enemies did not matter for an Irken Invader. As long as they beat them, they are entitled to be the best of the best. 

And there’s always that one person who ruins his moment. 

“Zim, what the- I leave you for a minute and you already killed two _innocent_ aliens!” Dib-thing crackled through the spy bug, looking at the corpse, but doesn’t go near it as much as Zim does. 

“Incorrect, Dib-stink. It’s mind-controlled aliens who are here to kill me. I had no choice,” He shrugged light-heartedly with a smirk, cocking his blaster to electrically reload the plasma bullets back at the barrel. 

“B-But- I said to stun them! Not kill them.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“There shouldn’t be a ‘fun’ in this.” 

“Then you’re no fun,” He retaliated, the mocking remark of what the Dib had told him two days ago backfired greatly.

Dib-thing doesn’t perceive it that way, though. 

“I have morals, y’know,” The boy muttered, that an average human ear can’t hear, but Irkens’ hearing can. “And Zim does not have such pity morals of what you humans barely obey.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He can visualize him narrowing his stupid human eyes, with the pouting expression and crossed arms. Zim can’t help but roll an eye. 

“Don’t take Zim as an Invader for nothing, Dib-beast. I’ve been researching you humans have plenty of wars and killings. Your people die every single day because of themselves,” The Irken cackles darkly. “Hilariously, it’s deplorable. It’s no wonder you humans aren’t evolving well.” 

“Then you’re very lucky that I have one, don’t you?” He sneered. 

"Oh, yes you do. No wonder you’re weak and helpless. A little puny smeet that even I had to save you several times.”

A smug smile graced upon his lips, seeing that the bug wasn’t speaking any longer for more than ten seconds.

“GIR! Come here and let’s go.”

“Yes, Master!” Zim pensively watches his sidekick run up to him and preparing for the thrusters again, later his mouth falling to a frown. 

His mind was somewhere else, thinking about that brat and his false morals. He was right, in a way. Had it not for his… _mercy_ , Zim wouldn’t have survived almost everything that has occurred to him for the past months ever since he met him. 

And he’s truly trying to not be dependent on his support. Because it would show weakness.

And Irkens do not tolerate weakness. 

“Alright, stinkbrain. Show Zim the way.” He picked up the flashlight flung away from the battle earlier, still illuminating a beam of bright white. 

A small recess of quietude passed, before the child directed him the right pathway. He went back to his robot servant, who was prepped for Zim’s seat.

They instantaneously blasted off the halls. 

The ride along the way wasn’t bad. With a gun and a flashlight on both of his hands, it took a hard time to balance himself on the SIR’s backside, but he could manage. He was extremely attentive this time, his hearing and fast reflexes were excelling his expectations that aids him to success. There are more ‘Complete Status’ lurking around the area, and Dib has that covered for him as his danger signal. 

But, he can’t be too carefree when there were two of them got to him at that time.

The silence accompanied by the ride was suffocating, however. The buzzing of the bug was drowned by both of their silent treatment. The small insect was catching up to GIR’s speed, but still in behind. In spite of needing the silence for his lekku to distinguish his opponents' pitterpatters, he can't help but feel like someone has to fill this reticence of confliction between him and the boy. He never wanted to mention how he had been a great part of this mission. Dib-stink doesn’t sound too engaged to talk to him either, considering what they had gone over human morals and the fact he’s just unenthusiastically telling him where to swerve. It was like he’s restraining something. Human emotions, maybe.

_Stupid human emotions_

And it downright angers him to no end that his body had to correlate with these… gloomy and unnecessary feeling towards the subject just as much as the human smeet is right now.

He hunches his shoulders up, pressing his lips further, and concentrated eyes upfront. He doesn’t like this kind of silence to keep going, but this is an opportunity not to be missed, so he had to deal with it.

Issues like this should be done for later. He has only one priority in this task, and he’s not going to be bothered by the newfound self-reflection. 

“You’re close. To the left then straight,” The Dib bluntly apprised him, with no sense of zeal to it. 

He just nodded curtly.

“... Wait... Zim, look out. Three are on to you,” The Dib’s tone was cranked up a little, panicking. It could sign for Zim that he’s the most in danger, since he’s physically here, of course. 

“Where?” The Invader demanded, his fake human pupils peered from behind, but nobody was there. Yet. 

“Two are behind you. They know where you’re going. And the other one is straight over the objective. It was guarding it the whole time.” 

The Invader readied the weapon, his face wrinkling up to concentration. 

“Where’s the Gaz-human?” 

“She’s close, don’t worry.” The reassurance was firm and sincere. 

It gave some comfort that the Dib is cooperative enough and that he is reverting to his usual irritating self. Somehow, that made Zim’s situation a lot easier to work on. 

He pointed the light onto the silhouette that he saw from afar. A Plookesian was charging onto him head-on, not too slow or fast enough to beat him to act on the moment. 

Fortunately, just in time, Zim and GIR evaded the Plookesian by veering the robot to the side, verily close by the wall. He took notice of the alien turning on his heels with a swift drift (and his cybernetic hand and feet grating loudly across the floor, creating small sparks from underneath), and Zim wasn’t going to take that chance to let himself be killed first. He brought GIR to a halt and skewed around, gun aimed and his finger pushing the trigger. 

The shot was futile when someone blocked his target.

In mere seconds, another species entered the party. A dandelion skinned with brown spots, a lean but well-built body, and a green and red eyes separately. She wore a patterned suit of grey and white, fully covering the body excluding the head. She has two cybernetic appendages on both arms, which one was currently used to make a transparent shield to deflect the blast by fisting the hand and the frontal arm faced unto him.

It was an Emiscillian, no doubt about that. A specific race that mostly consisted of top-notch agents for the Irken Empire. They’re trained and skilled for everything, albeit not much stronger than the Irken Invaders. Their leaders had already come upon a treaty for them from the Tallest Miyuki, since they had underestimated the Irken’s mastery on ruling over high-class planets. Their expertise was mainly stealth, excellent at obscuring themselves from different kinds of races. Hence, the Tallests assigned some of their troops to be educated for missions for the Irk’s gain, and in exchange, more and more purposeful machinery will be transported into their planet. Irkens had given the most popular soldiers of Emiscillian their technological enhancements that proved to be useful when utilized with their skills.

It was a hard feat for Irkens to imperialize the whole race, up to the point they were no match to Irkens when they got a step ahead on them, having the knowledge of one of their simple weakness: A sonic blast of noise that can blow up the Emiscillian’s skull, literally. 

But Zim doesn’t have that kind. It was only manufactured at Vort, and rarely Emiscillian had ever gone into criminal records and executed with sonic blasts. Not to mention, nobody had gifted him with such weaponry. 

On the other hand, GIR can. 

He was too late to take into action when a punch hit on his spooch, seeing the Emiscillian’s fist and the glint of dead yet murderous slits boring to his own. Zim was effectively thrown out of GIR’s back, pushed farther to crash onto the bitter failure of ground yet again. He caught sight of her tossing away GIR to the wall, but it did not cause any dents but a peal of whimsical laughter and an “AGAIN!” 

The gun and flashlight he had on his hands were gone from the second he was flung to the ground. He couldn’t see the artificial beam from his blackened surroundings anymore, must have been broken during his process of being thrown away. The pink blaster can still be seen from the dim lightings, which flickered once to twice, and the silence that came forwards that created an ominous aura creeping up into Zim’s skin as he had already fallen and the fact that the closest alien, an Emiscillian, was almost robotically standing straight, clearly her widened yet cold eyes are onto his, and was nearby on his blaster. What makes it worse was that she caught on what he was looking for, and kicked the weapon backwards, far from Zim. 

And to which it was received by a masculine Emiscillian from behind, now being pointed at him. He has a darker tone of skin and a pair of green-colored slits, one arm appendage on the right one, and the exact suit as the other one. 

Then the Plookesian came beside the two, all too eerily staring at the Irken. 

Zim relayed the same gesture, not showing the scintilla of fear that he’s outnumbered. While the Planet Jacker and Plookesian weren’t much of a problem, two Emiscillians without any sonic blasts can ebb away the confidence of an Invader due to having no match against them. He would fail. 

Unless he tries. 

“GIR-!” 

A mechanical hand clamped shut on his mouth before he could make a move, the female Emiscillian’s smirk rubbing it off him, which made him much more aggressive to make an attack. 

He didn’t need to, though. Because a flash of a familiar gray flew past him, removing the person who was pinning him down by shoving her out of the way. The battle mech turned off its thrusters, down beside the Irken rising to his feet. 

“You know, you and the ground are getting too intimate, don’t you think?” Gaz-human’s snarky comments are not what he wants at the moment, but he didn’t have to mind since she can return the favor. 

“Just distract them until I find all what I require,” He gruffly replies. 

“Don’t need an order to do it.” The mech bid him a farewell with two of the claws on the forehead, saluting. “Good luck, bug boy.” Then, she charges towards the three opponents without any firearms but her wrath. A wrath that isn’t to be trifled with. 

Without another second, he ran up to GIR and scooped him up, completely forgetting about the sonic blast (Though, he doesn't think he needs it for now. Gaz-human can handle it just fine without Dib and her needing to bleed their poorly human ears). He darted to the door where he needs to go. Since he knew that this may be the Vortian’s work of locks, he did not immediately take it upon smashing it like what he did on the MemCloak. He dropped his sidekick to his side and worked on opening the lid of the keypad by bringing out the toolkit from inside the PAK. He observed the wiring patterns tentatively, testing every possibility of accessing him inside. His hearing picked up the barrage of bullets, pained cries, and GIR babbling nonsense. He avoids the proximity of the chaos as much as possible to keep his focus onto the wirings laid in front of him. 

Then, there’s a Dib-bug zooming in to interrupt, “Zim, what can I do?” Zim pondered where the insect stopped before he was flung away from his ride, but there isn’t any time to ponder. For now, he has to accept that Dib-stink is involved in the mission, much to his dismay. 

“Zim can’t fully access into this lock’s system. I need you to link up both of your measly human intellect and my Irken device to hijack the system. You’ve done it before, do it again.” 

“What about you?” 

Zim sets his eyes upon the battle, the mech was surely losing against two skillful aliens evading every bullet she shoots them with, and one messing with her mech body to resume fighting. It wasn’t that they’re overpowering, but the human girl’s tactics aren’t overly balancing on the dexterity of a battle like all Invaders had to train of. She was like an animal on the loose. She may hold them off with her aptitude, but not for long when she can lose her footing with those inept fighting skills. 

“Helping the Dib-sister, stink meat. Alert us if there’s more. Understood?” He turns to the bug, plastering a determined look towards him. 

“Yeah, sure. Just go.” he sounded hurried, too wrapped upon his task. 

It sounded he was avoiding him. 

But that mattered less for tonight. 

For now, he was going to remind himself of the words that Winslow brought to him, and growled happily with evil intent. Forget the sonic blasts. He's gonna have some fun _playing_ with them. Besides, he has the mech. There will be no mistakes.

_Just like I promised._

* * *

He watches as the boy shouted panicked demands on the Irken. The moon and its little lights were being reflected from the window he was staring at, twinkling like the starlight he remembered when he drove around with his very own ship, on the vastness of space. It was hard to let himself slump on the trunk of this tree, relax and take a breather. Because all he has to do, is to spy on the boy, from the outside of his very little safe space.

A special kind of human boy, that’ll lead his liberty. 

“Zim, I’ve unlocked it! Now stop, please!” The child yelled from the inside of his room, the evident distress ingrained on his voice. The child’s back facing his view, but from here, he can distinguish the boy’s face of horror by the numbers of dots on his tablet go down, one by one, the Complete Status flatlines. 

He almost feels bad that he had such a problematic friend to begin with. Not to mention, his first friend. 

And he’s just here, peering outside of their home, keeping watch on the human child and disregarding his comrades fall from the Irken’s hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thinking of rewriting the first one of the story because I do want to expand more on IGE, Zim continuing to be tortured, and little Dib witnessing it all. My mind went to a reset, so yeah.
> 
> For now, I could try posting what I've written, which is this and another chapter.
> 
> (Probably also because of my writing is cringe too-)


	8. You Fear, He Conquers, You Run, He Stands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib filled in the blanks.

“Log in: #137. Dib Membrane, here to provide you with more information about the unusual for today,” Dib spoke through his own voice recorder he has ever since he started to document his own research about the paranormal. It wasn’t that too long. This has been with him for a year. Dad let him keep an old recorder for his ‘Scientific preparations’ as the birthday present. That was the intention. Too bad Dib used it for his own pursuit of his favorable future job: Paranormal Investigator. Every investigator has to have something to note on what they have known. And that’s what Dib is aiming to achieve, practicing to prattle on and on his discoveries on a voice recorder. 

“So about last night’s event wasn’t much of a disaster, surprisingly,” Dib chortled, remembering the usual banter they’ve been going on for most of the time from their trek to the Membrane Labs. He jumped up to his bed (he has a ladder, but it’s tiring to climb to it every time), half of his body laying down the mattress while his other half dangling by the edge of it. Out of muscle memory, he wanted to swing his legs to busy himself, but he only registered he was beyond tired, and unnecessary movements wouldn’t be helping his case to remain his vitality up. 

Sleeping for a short amount of time is not the worst thing that happens to him after the Membrane Labs ‘incident’. Could be searing his skin by failed concoctions or sliding on rough-textured boulders, that could lead to bloody cuts and bruises. He’d done so many bad stuff to his poor young body, it was kind of concerning how he might be able to live up until the age of 30 rather than lasting longer. His bad sleeping schedules are a complete mess, eating habits aren’t getting any better, and his mind and spirit haven’t had the right youthful energy 24/7. Sooner or later, his upcoming death is nigh, and he would be begging God for mercy to bring him back to life. 

But hey, at least Zim had spared him six hours of sleep after their mission. The decision to help him that night wasn’t a total waste. 

Now, he wakes himself at eight in the morning as he had fallen off the floor during his sleep, then seeing his room strewn over like someone had instigated a house party, and almost forgetting it was a Saturday that he rushed down by the staircase that lead to him clumsily falling down. Dad gave him an earful and ordered back to his room to rest and wait for some kind of cure he prepped in his basement, with his help, of course. To be a _good_ father, he had to help his injured children to be medicated and taken care of. 

The fall wasn’t quite painful. He got used to himself being a body bag and having a miraculously high pain tolerance. 

“Zim and Gir got what the stuff for the… Boot Cruiser or something. Mission accomplished. But... at what cost?” He dramatized the question, to enliven the atmosphere even though his vocals are far from energetic to do it. 

“His watch broke. He had to invent it again. Apart from that, the Complete Status specimens are alive,” He pauses, mulling it further. His tone articulated into a bitter one, morphing a morose and dispirited expression, “Well, ‘were’ would be more factual.” 

The memory of Zim savagely clawing down from each of their weak points that Dib didn’t want to remain his eyes into more of the action behind and focused on the task. He had wished for him to stop the brutality and pleaded for him to let them live. He glimpsed at Gaz’s expression, and as expected, doesn’t seem to be fazed by what the Irken had committed, like she had seen a heap of a diverse bloodied corpses before. 

Well, they both have watched a marathon of horror movies without their Dad’s supervision back when he’s not there for them. Dib thought he could take in the things that adults say children couldn’t be able to watch, but he did not sleep for a day at the time, and Gaz did fine in her own room, showing no signs of sleep deprivation. His sister was the strongest member of the Membrane family, and he kind of admired her for it. She could handle a spilled crimson on her. A death of a person would just be a speck of dust that can be brushed away. But Membrane and Dib made sure she wouldn’t go too far. 

She’s as scary as his alien friend, but not too much. The Membrane family knows she won’t go too far like Zim. She’s human, after all. Apart from that, she isn’t much a thirst for blood. Her games were her only priority. 

“I’ve attempted to persuade to stop Irken from the… massacre. By thwarting it, I had asked what would be the outcome of getting rid of the mind-controlling disks on their heads. The good news is that Zim agreed on doing it. The bad news…”

_“_ _Zim_ _, I’ve unlocked it! Now stop, please!”_ _He maneuvered the spy bug to_ _spin_ _around,_ _mustering up the courage to witness a bunch of various colors of_ _the aliens’_ _blood_ _pooling and blending with each other_ _. From his field of vision, he can_ _espy the trackers of different kinds of living beings in that facility, and_ _two or three more joined in_ _. He thought that_ _Zim_ _would just stun them like Gaz. It was why he had told_ _Gaz_ _to give him the gun, to take them out_ _in a more peaceful way_ _. But, he didn’t._

_He’d rather_ _do_ _bloodshed,_ _and it terrifies Dib._

_That was where he began to doubt his actions_ _since the very start of their meeting._

_Should he really befriend_ _,_ _give a try,_ _and_ _change the_ _Irken_ _? Or_ _… should he bring him back to where belonged, to his father?_

_Membrane’s words_ _stuck_ _into his_ _mind_ _when the_ _painstaking choice he’d done by disobeying his every order and_ _escape with_ _Zim_ _._

_“_ _These aliens, son. They aren’t the ones who you can_ _trust.They’re only doing it for their own_ _pleasure_ _._ _He’s not what you think he is. He’s going to hurt you the second you let your guard down._ _”_

_Did he make a bad choice? And in turn, gave him all these bad effects in his life. Did he do it all, for nothing?_

_There was a time that he_ _also_ _realized_ _Zim_ _isn’t all too powerful._

_Zim_ _was_ _tripped down by_ _a_ _yellow-skinned_ _alien_ _’s sweep of a leg,_ _judging_ _by_ _the_ _slim posture_ _on_ _the_ _black,_ _fully-_ _suited_ _spandex_ _, it_ _has to_ _be a female_ _._ _He was_ _subsequently_ _whacked_ _up by the back_ _, another alien_ _that was more_ _created from_ _cybernetics,_ _has a metal torso for the top, and the head on its middle._ _But besides that, the alien_ _effectively_ _damaged_ _the PAK_ _,_ _the sparks_ _aggressively_ _seeping out of the shell_ _. The_ _Irken_ _crashed to the ground with an_ _outraged_ _cry_ _._

_It_ _was also when_ _Dib_ _knew_ _that_ _Zim_ _is_ _his_ _friend._ _Zim_ _saved him countless times, and so was Dib. They were there for each other, in a way._

_Thankfully,_ _as if she read his_ _convoluted mind_ _,_ _Gaz_ _was_ _there to knock them out_ _,_ _fending off_ _the robotic alien_ _from_ _Zim_ _as hard as she could_ _._ _Now it was her fight against that one._

_He would’ve thought_ _that_ _Zim_ _would_ _retreat aside, take a breather and let_ _Gaz_ _do the work_ _, but he huffed and puffed_ _with_ _blatant_ _ferocity._ _He lunged for_ _the_ _other alien_ _, who has the same_ _skin tone_ _as_ _the female one_ _._ _He fought brashly, hitting the tall alien more and more_ _as the opponent steps back every time._

_Dib had to think of an incentive_ _,_ _one that could just_ _test_ _on them rather than being_ _mutilated_ _._

_And_ _that_ _was where his morbid curiosity of removing the disks_ _came into play_ _._

_He was informed by his Dad that_ _mind-controlling had some adverse effects_ _,_ _should_ _a tester_ _keep it from their heads for_ _long periods of time. It was the reason Dib_ _saw_ _Dad_ _quickly_ _plucked_ _off the disk from his assistant after_ _a few minutes_ _of_ _the_ _examination_ _. He may not know what those effects would be, but he’s willing to find out_ _for_ _Zim_ _to_ _cease_ _what he’s doing._

_Hence, Dib_ _screamed_ _it_ _to the_ _Irken_ _, and that caused_ _him_ _to_ _falter_ _his_ _attack_ _,_ _which the female alien from behind used the opportunity to_ _run up to him_ _._ _Before Dib could speak out a_ _word, she_ _erupted a_ _shrill yet ragged_ _shriek_ _, like a pterodactyl screeching_ _. It was as bad as GIR’s own wailing,_ _Dib_ _had_ _to quickly_ _lower the volumes of his laptop to prevent his Dad from coming in here_ _and wake the whole neighborhood_ _._ _His_ _eyes were pealed when_ _Zim_ _struck her_ _by the neck, the modified_ _dagger_ _-that_ _was previously_ _his_ _blaster_ _-_ _stabbed_ _through and_ _resulted in two holes from it as_ _Zim_ _chucked_ _the weapon_ _out_ _of_ _her neck._

_He changes his_ _vision_ _to the_ _other_ _yellow_ _assailant_ _who was ready to fight back again at Z_ _im_ _, even though it was heavily wounded._ _It was as if it doesn’t care about its own well-being,_ _the movements were too coordinated and_ _predictable_ _. Automatic._

_Zim_ _didn’t care to observe either way_ _._

_They both ignored the_ _female_ _alien suffering and choking from her own blood spurting out of her neck. Dib ignored it with fear of seeing someone die._ _Zim_ _was too occupied on another kill in the making._

_The Invader_ _effortlessly_ _blasted_ _the alien’s_ _head off_ _when he instantly_ _transfixed_ _back the dagger into_ _a gun,_ _splattering_ _a thin rust_ _of orange_ _to_ _the floor_ _and to_ _Zim’s_ _maniacal_ _face_ _of_ _satisfaction._

_Dib_ _gaped_ _numbly_ _at the_ _mounds of corpses,_ _half-dazed_ _on_ _the sight of a_ _bigger_ _quantity_ _of the_ _dead than unconscious._ _He doesn’t feel fine to count how many of them_ _, but he’s sure there was a handful._ _He had never seen a real life_ _murder- no, massacre before. It was just in those fictional movies he barely watches_ _. Witnessing a real one,_ _though,_ _Dib realizes, is_ _frightening. He thought he would be ready for this. He had even gone himself to hunt_ _some_ _peculiar living_ _beings_ _on his own_ _and_ _reviewed_ _few of the documentaries on dissection._

_But even so, he wasn’t ready for that, because_ _he didn’t handle seeing_ _Zim_ _being vivisected, and a bunch of corpses being mauled was_ _the_ _worse_ _he saw yet._

_Above all_ _, it was mostly_ _Zim’s_ _doing._

_His friend’s doing._

_Dib_ _couldn’t_ _comprehend_ _what_ _had_ _occurred_ _, but his glazed_ _eyes_ _followed_ _Zim_ _,_ _who scrounged a body from the pile._ _He_ _revealed no reaction when_ _Zim_ _pulled out_ _another gun_ _from his pockets_ _,_ _a smaller_ _one_ _that_ _he knew was the stun_ _gun_ _._

_He was fiddling with it for_ _short while,_ _and Dib_ _remained_ _his blank gaze_ _at_ _him_ _._

_Until he_ _pressed_ _the end of the gun to the_ _alien’s torso,_ _who_ _was the one_ _Gaz_ _seemed to have battled against and_ _lost with just_ _her_ _electric shock._ _It jerked when_ _Zim_ _pushed the trigger,_ _then he_ _lifted up the bowl-like helmet,_ _and extracted the disk off the alien’s forehead._

_The three waited for_ _the freed_ _alien to_ _regain its_ _consciousness_ _._ _Gir_ _was eager to do_ _something_ _else, and_ _that_ _was_ _running in circles_ _(literally)_ _till he tires himself out (_ _probably not_ _,_ _due to how much energy the robot can supply within_ _a day)._ _Zim_ _didn’t_ _interfere with his sidekick,_ _leaving_ _him_ _to do_ _his_ _antic_ _._

_It_ _wasn’t taking long, fortunately, and actually_ _was_ _alive and well_ _when it opened its strange green eyes._ _The strange thing is that it_ _just looks like it has only pupils._

_Zim_ _stepped back,_ _frowning_ _and crossing his arms as_ _they_ _let_ _the alien do_ _the recognition on_ _its body movements_ _._ _The_ _alien was sitting on the pile_ _, curiously checking its hands and touching_ _itself_ _like_ _a baby_ _wondering its very existence_ _, unbeknownst to the_ _dead bodies below him._

_As soon as_ _those blobs called ‘eyes’_ _landed on_ _Zim_ _,_ _the behavior changed quite fast._ _The alien started to erratically turn_ _the_ _head in every direction, now_ _it noticed_ _both of the siblings_ _, although it couldn’t know since they’re just made of_ _armor and a remote-controlled insect._ _The face was_ _a mix of surprise,_ _panic, and_ _wariness_ _,_ _jumping away from what he sat at and_ _backing away from the three looking straight at_ _it._

_It_ _looked_ _lost, confused yet horrified by the scene in front of it_ _, or itself._ _It wasn’t_ _speaking coherently,_ _but there were unreadable murmurs as it tries to corner itself to the wall._ _The alien rubbed and scratched_ _itself,_ _the metal being grated,_ _and elicited more_ _baffled_ _murmuring as_ _they kept watch, all not bothered to interrupt._

_Zim_ _was the_ _one_ _to_ _snap it out of the zone,_ _scowling_ _at the fellow alien. It perked when he did,_ _and_ _there was an instant change_ _yet again,_ _too._

_The moment_ _Zim_ _strode impatiently_ _towards_ _it_ _,_ _it_ _made_ _out a warning growl, narrowing its pupils at the_ _Irken_ _,_ _threatening_ _him more and more_ _as he disregards the_ _message. Dib felt like something bad was going to happen._

_It’s a shame_ _Zim_ _did not think the same._

_He_ _witnessed_ _the alien_ _’s metal fist_ _straight_ _for_ _the Invader_ _but wounded up dodging_ _it_ _and pinning_ _it_ _down in a matter of seconds. The opponent squirmed,_ _rabidly trying to escape_ _Zim’s_ _grasp like a wild animal on the loose_ _, crying in angry gurgles and growls_ _._ _Despite_ _Zim’s_ _liability on his height, he managed to bring it down with an iron grip_ _. Dib_ _guessed it was_ _the natural_ _Irken_ _strength he was bragging on_ _, comparing_ _it on_ _a human_ _one._

_This gave them time for Dib to_ _attempt_ _on talking_ _it out, later knowing from_ _Zim’s_ _intel that it was a male_ _and called a…_ _Plookesian._ _The said alien_ _was still_ _persistent on the thrashing, and_ _Zim_ _was getting frustrated by every_ _abrasive_ _movement and_ _telling Dib he’ll kill it_ _in no time if they get no progress_ _from_ _rationalizing._

_“_ _Zim_ _, no_ _, you’re not going to_ _. We can’t have more of them being killed._ _”_

_“_ _Zim_ _is not_ _having more than one specimen to my_ _lab,”_ _He snarls, rather between in a passive-aggressive tone_ _._

_“_ _But they’re innocent_ _._ _They_ _were just mind-controlled."_

_His eyes rolled in annoyance_ _and scoffed_ _, “_ _They’re well past_ _innocent, human. Their brains were already melted and_ _dumber_ _than ever_ _.”_

_“_ _Wh_ _-What?”_

_“Just ask the computer, moron.”_ _He smacked the_ _Plookesian_ _to the ground hard, weakening it to have an easy restraint_ _._ _The boy chose to ignore_ _the little insult_ _in preference to curiosity._

_“Computer? Is it true?” Dib went to look at the orb, which was_ _still glowing the_ _holoscreens_ _and was_ _quiet_ _the whole_ _time after he had asked him for the mech._

_For a_ _lengthy stillness_ _of_ _his_ _room_ _,_ _he_ _thought_ _the computer didn’t_ _understand what he said_ _and thought about rephrasing his question_ _, but then he saw his spy bug burst a thin beam of_ _light, or what scanners has for short, and scanned the alien below_ _Zim_ _._

_It clicked to him that_ _the computer must have hacked onto the codes of the bug, considering he connected_ _his_ _laptop to the orb, it wouldn’t be hard to take control of_ _the spy bug since it also connects to_ _his_ _laptop_ _._

_It finally replied_ _after_ _the processing_ _was_ _done_ _,“It_ _states_ _the_ _hyjeglcesia_ _is_ _at_ _87 percentage of deterioration._ _”_

_“_ _Hyjec_ _\- what?”_ _If he had to guess, it must be an alien term for…_

_The computer_ _groans_ _exasperatedly, "F_ _or_ _your_ _human understanding, basically_ _,_ _his brain is_ _far off for_ _remedy_ _._ _The_ _neurons_ _are being_ _disintegrated_ _gradually_ _when_ _the disk_ _was still on his head_ _, and_ _since it_ _lasted longer_ _than an_ _approximate five_ _minutes_ _, it isn’t stopping despite the disk was off the brain_ _. The only solution to it_ _was, well,_ _an_ _execution_ _to spare the mental agony of a_ _mindless alien_ _or…_ _mind-controlling back the_ _Plookesian."_

_Dib was left_ _with_ _the_ _dumbfounded_ _and petrified_ _little face_ _, and_ _Zim_ _, like he_ _somehow knew_ _what the computer had_ _told_ _him,_ _sent him a face of an ‘I told you so’ and_ _did_ _not_ _hesitate to blast off the alien’s_ _guts_ _. He was_ _definitely not counting on_ _exploiting mind manipulation_ _on others as it already_ _stands out_ _for him that he and only he can make do of_ _ruling Earth_ _._

_He_ _claimed the disks_ _from_ _all of the_ _enemies’ foreheads_ _after, making Dib’s choice_ _of mercy in vain that_ _Zim_ _had to kill the rest of the stunned_ _Complete Status_ _._

“They didn’t make it.” A quick and blunt answer to it, the emptiness on his voice says everything how he felt for the aliens that were beyond saving. 

“Zim had to examine the disks further into his lab, even though, I could do it since it’s my Dad’s invention. There was a problem with that, sadly. He told me the Vortian must have done something to the disks. The advanced alien technology that humans won’t understand spiel. It was getting annoying, but understandable.” Dib knitted his brows to his side without tilting his head, irritated, despite there wasn’t a green creature or any living person towards that direction. He hated being left behind of all the things he needs to know, now that he might be part of something bigger. It’s not just his city is in danger, but the whole planet. His home planet. And those factors creating the demise could either be the alien spying on him. 

Or Zim. 

Dib shakes the thought away, “Zim also told me that he’s gonna report me something important. That’s something I got going on for the day. Oh- I forgot to tell something about his Irken technology!” Dib sat up, forgetting the upsetting atmosphere and started to talk quite eagerly, “You see, he has a remote that can produce a forcefield bubble that can store up stuff. It can float, easy to lift, and adjustable on sizes if needed! Oh, did you know it was indestructible? Though I don’t know if it’s breathable, but I’d like to find out someday. It would be cool as an escape pod or something.” He paused the recording and thoughtfully got up to jut it on his journal. It was a cool concept for a cage display for hunting down cryptids in museums. That way, those creatures wouldn’t put past clawing at the people taking their pictures. It’s flawless.

The exciting and hard part was that he has to hunt one of them to do so. 

After writing it out, he shut off the notebook and lightly tossed the pencil to the desk. He leaned against his little rolling chair and relaxed. With the voice recorder in hand, he pressed the play button without his eyes to navigate the button. He practically knows where it is like the back of his hand. “Besides that, we got the stuff we need to modify the spaceship. Gonna take a few days, 4 or 5 days at best. This gives me more time to convince Dad that Zim, or Zak -as Gaz had suggested- is my friend, if he willingly cooperates, that is.” He deadpans, imagining Zim would accidentally bring upon of how he’s always the best and his ‘high standards’.

Although, from the very back of his mind, it wasn’t about his ego. Zim’s murderous desire still lingered, should he ever be mad at his father and might kill him out of spite. It scares Dib.

But Zim wouldn’t actually do that. He can control himself. He’s still his friend, after all.

Right? 

He doesn’t how their friendship would presentably work for his father, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

He will have to talk to Zim about it when the time arises. Good thing Dad was still out, reconstructing Membrane Labs, probably will return by late dinner night if he has little meetings and conferences to handle for the day.

“Anyways, that’s all for today. Dib Membrane, out,” He says as he clicks off the recorder

For awhile, he plops down to the comfort of the mattress and unclasped the device from him, exhaling out the little headache circling on his brain. He’s gonna be needed down there one way or another. Zim said he would be visiting his home to tell him some important news he got from the IGE. He was asleep for that time, and he didn’t know if Gaz heard it since she was there for the ride. His lack of sleep is a hassle these days. 

Though, a little rest wouldn’t be so bad for the time being. 

“MARY!” 

It was all ruined by a loud bang of his poor door and a hard weight suddenly dropped to his stomach. Dib sucked a breath and reflexively sat upright, looking down to see none other than Gir wrapping his tiny noddle arms on his waist. Well, Gir in his unconvincing disguise of a green dog. Seriously, the dog has a long line of stitch by the middle. Some might think Gir is an animal Frankenstein. 

“I miss you, big head Mary!” Gir chirped, somehow sniffling and hugging the child harder. A dog made of metal doesn’t bode with his thin fleshy body. He was mildly crushing him. 

“Gir, it’s only been hours ago since I’ve talked to you.” 

“Oh… really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, okie!” Dib puffs out of relief when Gir released him from the tight hug, stretching his arms to crane his joints in a better position. 

“What’re you doing here? How’d you get here exactly?” 

“Master and I am visiting today. I made waffles!” As said, he zipped down the costume and grabbed from the inside of his head, two pieces of waffles. “It’s a gift.” 

In order to not ensue a crying fit, he accepted the food, taking it from the robot’s hand. He didn’t like that these don’t have a container and was stored onto Gir’s storage of weird belongings, but did not comment nonetheless. “Thanks, I guess.” 

“Yay! Youz accepted the gift! Off to make more now.” And just like that, he returned the costume back in place and frisked away from Dib’s room. 

Dib blinked dumbly, then shrugging off the sudden visit of Zim’s sidekick, and checking the gift. The waffles were bedazzled with glitters and ripped colored papers, though, it doesn’t seem to be intended to be put there. There is a small plastic and human arm on one of the waffles, which he questions as to why does Gir have human-made figurines. An unnamed CD was stuck to the side, courtesy of the maple syrup dripping slowly. 

“What is in Gir’s head? Jeez, this is a lot of junk,” He made a face, the imagination running wild with how Gir got all of these human belongings. 

At the sight of the syrup nearing the end of the waffle, he held the pair with one hand and the other below to prevent it from staining the sheets. He doesn’t want to take the laundry for today. He made a beeline to the staircase, going for the kitchen. 

To show some respect instead of immediately throwing into the trash can, he had a plate that was conveniently placed on the dining table, and jumped up to splat the pasty waffles on it. However, it consequently splattered the drops of goey liquid to his face. Letting out a groan of annoyance, he pushed the stool to the sink counter with his foot because his hands were tainted with the sticky syrup. After a little washing of his hands and scrubbing his face, he didn’t bother to get the towel and just wiped the wetness off with his nightshirt. 

He observed over the place, the recollection crossed in his mind about Gir wanting to make waffles. It meant he would most likely do it in the kitchen. But what he saw, is that the place was spotless. There weren’t any ingredients spilled and powdered everywhere like Gir would create if he ever bakes. 

There wasn’t any Gir in here either. 

A relief passed onto his body, loosening the rigid shoulders that he didn’t know he had. No mess equals no scolding and chores. He doesn’t want his renewed energy to be stolen by pointless chores. He’s gonna need it for something special and interesting. 

Unfortunately, it was short-lived. Upon realizing Gir being in his home, could mean Zim just outside this dining room and must be waiting in the living room. 

It wasn’t that they did not end on a good note. Dib even bid Zim a goodnight and he replied with the usual grumble.

It was that inkling of fear that makes him hesitate. 

A small intake of air for a little courage, Dib set the stool back and steadily stepped to the living room. 

He met no reserved or narrowing eyes at him or no person standing over the doorway that awaits an impatient disguised Irken. 

Rather, there were two occupants sitting down by the couch. From his perspective, their sides were facing him, and their sights are concentrated on the television, which showed exaggerated muscular characters fighting each other. To which Dib knew it was a video game from the looks of two health bars on the top. 

Zim and Gaz were playing a game from the Ps4, all the louder and whinier can be heard from the two of them. Zim’s illogical comments and Gaz’s uncaring retorts were filling the room with so much noise, and not to mention Gir also in the same room, squealing in delight from the two fighting over a game. 

Dib wasn’t too keen on relaxing yet. He still has to confront him. So, he stepped closer to the two, voicing out his name from the noisy quarreling. 

“Zim?” 

His calls were being drowned with a lot of Irken language and Gaz’s provoking comments about Zim’s skills. Dib tried to step even closer and wave his hand in front of the Irken. Thankfully, it caught his attention, which was swatting his hand away. 

“Cease your annoying calling, Worm-boy. Zim is super busy right now and I can’t be bested by some random Urthen child.” He continued playing, eyes only directed at the television. By the mention of Gaz, he glanced at her incredulously and a gesture of ‘You’re in this?!’. She shrugged without a care in the world, literally, “He was panicking from my trance. I’m helping with games.” 

Dib opened his mouth to speak up, but he realizes what Gaz was doing. Not only for the benefit of Gaz and Zim’s enjoyment, but also his goal to change Zim’s mind about the Earth. He doesn’t know why Zim would be panicking at the time, and he could imagine him pacing around the house waiting for him to wake up (Why was he even waiting for him to wake up?), complaining about his late sleep schedule and ‘sly’ comments. But whatever he was on, must be really dangerous and scarily important news to tell him. And he’s going to highly prioritize saving Earth since Zim would take a long time to get him to change, and the fact there is another alien for a take-over probably scheming. 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about something crucial for Earth’s demise?” Dib complained, knitting his eyebrows and putting hands on his hips. He really felt like a parent reprimanding a child addicted to their games. Well, like a dad talking in on Gaz about her addiction to games. “This isn’t even important.” 

A disgruntled Zim gave him the side-eye, looking very offended. “This IS important, stupid boy. Don’t underestimate this enraging but good-enough interactive fighting simulation! Now leave this domain, Zim is importantly busy.” 

Dib honestly wanted to unplug the game off, but he would be inevitably conspiring against her sister. She wouldn’t even care for the sake of the planet, and playing with Zim while she might have known what was important intel from IGE proves it.

So, he decided to annoy Zim more by the rapid waving of his hand on his face, calling his name and nicknames (and his fake one just in case Dad would unexpectedly enter) and softly flicking the side of his head. It was progressively working, his eye twitching, loud angry fiddles on his controller, and more comments along on both of the siblings but with different reasons. 

“Tell. It. To. Me. Space. Lizard. Now,” Dib insisted, playfully poking Zim by the arm. 

“Agh! Fine, fine! Stop it!” Zim paused the game after five more minutes (Dib had to poke him again to really do it.) and swiveled his head to him. Dib smiles, satisfied and smug. But he had to admit he held that barrage of annoyance for long. He thought he would’ve burst his angry issues sooner.

“Zim is still busy here, so would it kill you if I just inform you of the basic information than a full-blown explanation?”

“Probably, because it’s my concern for my planet and it would be the alien that might be in endangering it, but sure. Basic info it is.” The least he could get was something rather than stall for hours of beating around the bush. 

Zim stares at the boy a few seconds, contemplatively, before rolling his eyes. “Alright, listen to Zim VERY well because I will NOT repeat this again.” 

“Yeah, I know, space boy. This is about saving Earth, you’d think I don’t wanna listen to it?” 

“I- Uh- you SILENCE! You’re making it hard for me to tell you such simple data!” 

“Okay, okay. Go with the information already.” 

The Irken huffed, placing the controlled down on his lap. “An unknown Vortian Virus spread has been planted somewhere in this planet. It will spread amongst the inhabitants and would be affecting your people to kill themselves.” 

“Wait, wha-?!” 

“ _Zim_ _-"_ He cut him off, sharp with a side glare. _“-_ may have a great guess that it wouldn’t set off without the owner setting it off himself. So, we’re _fine_ ,” He dismissively told him and resumed back on playing, looking casually unbothered just as much as Gaz. 

Dib, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of it. He felt his blood ran cold, the image of the citizens all savages, maiming each one of them like it was the survival of the fittest. Winslow’s plan wasn’t over for the power of control.

“What do you mean- _fine_?! Me and my people are in jeopardy!” 

“Ugh- if you insist on being a nuisance, it’d be better if you just investigate it yourself, Dib-idiot. Zim is pretty busy and I don’t want any interruptions.” 

“And you’re just gonna stay here, _chillax_ , and not help me?!” His tone went into a different rollercoaster of his current emotions from aggravation, to mockery, and to panic. Gaz will not definitely understand. Zim won’t understand unless it’s about his home planet or his conquest. 

“I’m not repeating it again, Dib-thing. Just scram to your room.” 

“That virus would disrupt your mission too!” 

“Zim will think of it as I go along. Now shut.” 

Dib knew there was no point in persuading him anymore. He’d done the leverages, and nothing stopped the Invader into just enjoying pointless playing. 

He heavily sighs in both exasperation and agitation, “Fine, whatever. I’ll do it myself.” 

He began stomping away from the room, going upstairs for himself to slam the door of his bedroom. He hears Zim shouting nonsense at Gaz that would he probably end up in a pickle later on, but he doesn’t care at the moment. What he needs to do is what’s for the sake of Earth. 

The boy jumped on his bed and opened up his laptop. 

He started to press down the power key of it, mind completely buckled in for the hunt of the alien machine. 

The normal Web won’t get him anywhere in this kind of situation, so he moved his wired mouse for the cursor to aim at the icon of the eye, and clicked it. 

The Swollen Eyeball Network is much like the dark web, except the people and their posts weren’t as controversial and dangerous as the people from the other one. It may help him finding the objective by just asking them. People would barrage the asker with various answers that sometimes aren’t false or true. Although, these posts Dib accused of it are fake since they’re very much using materials and Photoshop to make it look better and surreal. They didn’t believe him and continued on with this stupidity. Dib wasn’t to keen on arguing on them either. At least, the only one who’s been on his side since day one was Agent DarkBootie. 

He typed in the question to the network. 

_Have_ _you guys_ _discovered_ _any weird, strange, or alien machinery_ _on our planet? Or a country?_ _Much more specific location?_ _It should be recent and_ _could be seemingly off from the area they’re in. I_ _want to investigate_ _about it_ _immediately._

Pressing the enter key, the text loaded until it was placated to the string of the newer posts. Dib sighed out for no other reason before going to surf in the sea of fake posts. It was irritating and offending to him as a future paranormal investigator. These fakes shouldn’t be tolerated because it could cause confusion and misinformation if some were gullible enough to believe them. Well, they already were, but some were not fooled. 

As he explored, his brain suddenly found a little insignificant memory of him for the first time in The Swollen Eyeball. Or, specifically, how he had gotten accepted into The Swollen Eyeball. 

For the fun of it, he searched for his video. 

And there he sees the thumbnail of him and Zim, their third encounter. 

He didn’t want to watch it all, but he chose to play it anyways. 

It had been three months. Nearly four, ever since they’ve done that. In hindsight, he should’ve seen that assault coming. Paralysis injections that were made from humans aren't enough for something as mysterious alien biology is. He shouldn’t have meddled with his life support system. It wasn’t supposed to end with him panicking for the Irken’s life, and himself getting scarred from the chest. 

Dib didn’t notice his hand dragged itself to the scar, gripping the fabric of his shirt hard when he watches the video about his 3-month younger self inserting back the tubes to the alien, and in return, clawing him to where it had caused the change of events. That was supposed to be an accident, nothing more. The cut was deep and could’ve had loss plenty amount of blood, passing out without a doubt because he’s still a developing human child. But he injured himself worse than this, right? 

Why does he feel scared to go see Zim again? 

Well, for starters, it makes sense. Ever since he technically committed a massacre on the Complete Status, and Dib was there to witness the bloodshed, fearing the Irken would be much more reasonable now. Any sane human would be, at least, for the most part. Gaz and Dad might be controversial

Fighting off robots is different from killing off living beings. 

Zim doesn’t care for the difference. 

And that’s what Dib is afraid of. Whether he would cause immense destruction to Earth or deliberately kill Dib out of spite. 

After all, they’ve only known themselves for months, not years. It’s hard when both of them are repressed and vague, too centered on the contrasting goals. Dib admits, that he centered himself into saving Earth now that Zim is free. He could say the same for Zim too. 

They were meant to be rivals, weren’t they? 

The video feed ended to black after shaky ruckus from the screens and the erratic breathing of himself. That was when he was hurriedly picking up the camera and the bag, reaching for the ventilation shaft with a large gash on his chest. It was a miracle he managed to run for like a mile and still survived.

Zim’s sudden attack would’ve killed him. 

Then again, he almost killed him too. 

The boy closed the tab before his mind could go somewhere else. 

“Now I’ll have to do is wait,” Dib heaves a sigh, closing the laptop. He brings it up to his desk, where he can take down some notes he remembered from his classes for his test by Monday. Zim would be reconstructing his spaceship for days, so 3-day examinations won’t be much of a problem. Even though he was sure he didn’t need reviewing these in the first place since he knows all of it is basic (except the History subject. Memorizing dates and names are a little difficult for him.) studies of elementary, he felt the urge to do something else productive today. Writing out notes and maybe concepts of traps for the paranormal hunts would be nice for awhile. 

Before that, it popped right out of mind he needs to refresh himself. 

Hence, he left the laptop running on sleep mode, notebook opened for the notes, and fixed his bed not too properly, but good enough. 

He walked out of his room and planned to go for a shower. 

Until he gets notified of someone replying to his post, he’ll fully focus on that instead of this. 


End file.
